In twenty years, two months and nine days of life she had never been forced to buy paper.
On this day things would change.
Texture, color, absorbency, scent! There were so many choices and at the end of her shopping only one was selected.
Twenty sheets of a beige parchment with bumps of burgundy, brown, and black speckled throughout its rectangular expanse. The scent of fresh roses wafted up from its surface. Along with this, two pens were purchased. One was fine tipped and of traditional black ink. The other was a child's utensil that contained gel-ink in a shade of glittering pink.
With a hard-backed folder keeping her paper immaculately straight was tucked into the ratty shoulder bag she always carried. A deep breath was drawn in and kept for herself. Tonight she would compose the letters and forty-eight hours later they would be distributed.
So much to say and so little time to say it in.
On this day things would change.
Texture, color, absorbency, scent! There were so many choices and at the end of her shopping only one was selected.
Twenty sheets of a beige parchment with bumps of burgundy, brown, and black speckled throughout its rectangular expanse. The scent of fresh roses wafted up from its surface. Along with this, two pens were purchased. One was fine tipped and of traditional black ink. The other was a child's utensil that contained gel-ink in a shade of glittering pink.
With a hard-backed folder keeping her paper immaculately straight was tucked into the ratty shoulder bag she always carried. A deep breath was drawn in and kept for herself. Tonight she would compose the letters and forty-eight hours later they would be distributed.
So much to say and so little time to say it in.