Disappearing Act, Part III

Saturday night.

We had been out to order a new bed this afternoon.
- Dear, we can’t afford this, she said.
- Don’t worry about it. The old one was so bad. I want my little girl to have sweet dreams.

She kissed my cheek, happy. She bounced back onto the bed, like an excited child.
- Look! She shouted. How mushy it is!

Everything’s fine. Everything except the next supply of bills in the mail. Everything, except my last story that doesn’t want to get started. Everything, except my book that was rejected five times. Burney House has to accept it! They’ve had it for a long time. I get it. I have reached the critical point in my career. More and more I have the impression that I’m a stretched spring.

Finally… everything’s going well with Mary.