Sophie locked the door and headed to her computer. She was disappointed he hadn’t mentioned seeing her again. For the next hour, she had her imagina...y couple going all over town together. When she stopped for the night, she was pleased with the progress of the story, already thinking ahead to the next part. Sophie put in a few extra hours at work the next couple of days. She kept busy in the evenings by mowing the lawn, weeding the flowerbeds, and writing. Soon it was the weekend all over again. She was unable to encapsulate that kind of fear into verse, and Bluestein certainly wouldn’t accept the darker side of reality from someone so prominent a prom queen as she, but he would ultimately give in, or else she would threaten never to write her usual strain of Stepford-wife bullshit ever again. Maybe she needed to join one of those lesbian girl-power groups or see a psychiatrist who would probably end up chasing her around a desk. Still, nothing flowed from her pen, the pains of sitting. More

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