It’s been three and a half years since we moved into our @HomeCrazzyHome. It was my forty-eighth move in fiftyone years. Yes, you heard that right. And considering I grew up in the same house from the time I was two until I was eighteen, that’s a lot of moves. Other than Drayton, my last flat in London and Sebida were the longest I stayed in one place. Though, I should soon pass Sebida, if I haven’t already.
But even in those longer term ‘homes,’ I was always moving things around. My old study has been redecorated and repurposed fourt times since we moved. Corrections – five. This new writing space has been transformed three times. Maybe there is just some restlessness in my soul? And yes, honestly, a couple of times like our friends today, I have been running from or to something.
Am I the only restless soul? Or are you the type to put down deep roots?
Her throat tightened; was that what would happen to her things? Did it really matter? Sure, she had spent good money making her apartment a comfortable refuge to come back to after a long day. But even on the weekends, she rarely spent any time there. Between work and the gym, she usually just came in and crashed into bed. No, there was nothing there that mattered.
Her career, her apartment, she didn’t even have any friends to speak of. Her whole life, at least the last quarter-century of it, and nothing mattered. As much as she had invested in Tyson, Turner & Tyson, LLP, they had already reassigned her cases to other partners.
Hell, Jack and Junior had tried to have her murdered if that goon in Vegas was to be believed. And why wouldn’t she? For what? Money? She had sold not just her legal skills but her soul to the devil for money and prestige? Maybe she didn’t even have a soul. Perhaps that too had died in that….
Tara Cox - Literary Erotica 