Reached my goal today through sleepy eyes. It’s so hard to stay awake in winter. I want to hibernate.
My favorite bit of writing today includes a husband observing his wife:
You’d never know that she was fifty. Never in a million years. Forty, tops. She’s wearing a blouse made of see through fabric that billows when the wind catches it, clings to her body, puffs out like a cloud and sucks into her again. Underneath the blouse is a lacy bra, the pink one with the matching panties. His eyes drop instinctively to her lap but she’s wearing pants. He’s glad he picked up the wine.