Semi-Daily Scribbles

All is well in Lenore's pastel world. Every edge is encased in cotton. Surfaces are soft and Lenore melts into walls and comes out the other side wiser for being so fluid. Intuitive. Lenore pays a visit to her neighbors and asks about their health, their holidays, their sons and daughters who run away when she comes around. The neighbors answer with empty-headed stares and chills that prickle the skin. Mrs. Klein's Bichon Frisé sniffs at the tassel on Lenore's scarf and barks, to Mrs. Klein's bewilderment, at the gentle breeze rustling the box hedge.