How Madelaine Survives Quarantine

Written with my Thursday night writing group (now meeting on Zoom!) with the prompts:  one red shoe and oh, dear.

Madelaine wore one red shoe and one green shoe because it was Christmas and she was in a wild holiday mood.  She wondered, do cats see color?—because it was only the cats who would see her festive feet.  Unless of course she deigned to position the camera low enough to show her footwear when she zoomed with her family later that afternoon.

Madelaine had thrived during these virus years, writing torrid romances under the nom de plume Betty Begonia, and cozy mysteries under the nom de plume Henrietta Poisonwood, and violent bloody thrillers under the nom de plume Mike Raven.  She had made so much money selling e-books that she’d paid off her mortgage, her Toyota Corolla, and her credit card debt. She was now investing in cotton and wheat futures as well as companies that make yeast, sour dough starter, and toilet paper.  Her stock broker assured her she’d have a very secure future.

She’d spent the last five years happily sequestered, writing furiously and planting petunias in the tiny plot in front of her midtown cottage.  She interspersed pink flamingos amid the flowers to make  her neighbors smile.  They often left fresh produce and home-baked banana bread on her front porch, thinking she must be destitute and lonely.  But as an introvert she couldn’t be happier.  She never had to make excuses for refusing invitations anymore, and she didn’t have to drive at night to meet with her monthly book club, her bi-weekly wine club, or her Friday night poker games, that in more ordinary times used to meet at the bar in the back of Tallac Village.  She was a responsible gambler, especially since she could drink all those guys under the table.  Still could, even from the dining nook adjacent to her kitchen.

Life was good.  Christmas dinner with her cats would be pleasant, and then she could work on her latest opus “Oh, Deer,” a genre-defying novel that Madelaine hoped might bring her the coveted title of literary fiction author.  She had no idea which name she would put on this one.

Photo by MILKOVI on Unsplash

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