7277 Words

It took me a little while to settle down to writing again — running out of meds means that my focus is really off today, which is exactly what I don’t need when I’m supposed to be focusing hard on writing, alas. Should’ve gotten that prescription refilled last week.

It’s in the works now, though, and I did eventually make it out to the shed, and per usual, that’s helped immensely with focus. There are a thousand other things to do in the house, and very little to do out here other than write or read.

Going to stretch my legs, take ten minutes to putter in the veggie garden and clean it up a bit, I think, grab a bite to eat. Then back to the shed.


My parents had found my power quite useful when it emerged, often setting me to finding my father’s chappals, which he was forever mislaying, and my mother’s glasses (which she wouldn’t lose so often if vanity didn’t lead to her taking them off frequently). They didn’t even mind my displaying the talent at parties; the Mumbai elite found it reasonably entertaining, often demanding I perform for them like a trained monkey. “Srilatha, darling, see if you can find my gold bangles! You can’t imagine where I’ve hidden them!” Their locations were never as clever as they thought. I’d always thought there must be some better use for a finding power, and now, here I was, rescuing a damsel in distress. Two today, if the tiara turned out to be the right one! That would be a good day’s work, and I could rest easy for a solid month after that.


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