Semi-Daily Scribbles

Mae's walls closed in on her, Fred, the shelves filled with dusty tchotchke. Golden age turned lovers and objects into death traps. She needed to speak. It'd been years since Mae had anything to say. She'd long ago hung her heart on the wall in a nice Certificate of Achievement-sized frame. It had the most grime of any ornament in Mae’s cluttered world. Mae wanted to tell Fred something about the two of them not loving enough of the same things to have made their dotage less bitter, but she didn't know exactly how to phrase it. All she knew was she had to act quickly. Mae's invisibility would come to an end and then Fred and the neighbors would see what had lain hidden among them for so long. Fred and the rest were such a critical bunch.