Eileen groped for the snooze button. Her eyes popped open. Silver dust motes danced in light from the uncurtained window. She hurried to shower, noticing again the chipped sink, running toilet, and mildew around the tiles. The landlord’s rate for these shabby digs was a scandal. She dressed in thrift store duds: short cream blazer with a back flare, chocolate brown wool pants, knotted beige scarf, and some dead woman’s low-heeled pumps. Finally, she placed her grandmother’s jasper ring on her left ring finger where the wedding ring wasn’t. She planned to ace the interview; she needed the job.
It was useful, I suppose, to stretch my mind around incongruous words that do not belong together -- an enjoyable diversion. I also had fun last night reading through my old poems. Next goal -- those revisions!