Night Vision

She was useless at dusk, a squinting mole of a woman, unable to drive, unable to distinguish faces or fonts or numbers of fingers being held up until they were inches in front of her—and by then, too late to react properly. This was genetic. Like her mother’s mother’s mother’s mother (and so on and on, she imagined, back to the Neanderthalic foremother, who died when she  stumbled  into the open maw of an unseen twilight predator), she sighed and put her book aside each day when the sun set.



3 thoughts on “Night Vision

  1. I think….I’m out of my league joining forces with you. This was great.

    • Oh, whatever, Nicole! From what I’ve read of our various group members’ work, we’re all smack dab in the same league (i.e. the league that in its 30s and hasn’t ever gotten anything done…)!

      Besides, anyone can write a decent paragraph. It’s not worth anything unless you can string together at least 10 decent paragraphs consecutively. :-/

      Have you submmitted anything to the gmail account yet? I need to start checking that…

      • But this one paragraph says so much! It’s the kind of writing I strive for. Yay! I added my 2 picture books and 1 flash fiction, all written this past fall.

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