(This snippet is from the rough draft of Light Magic. There may be — and probably are — misspellings, grammar issues and more that will be corrected in the editing phase. You can find Snippet 1 here, Snippet 2 here and Snippet 3 here. Of course, the usual disclaimers apply. Also, on the current events front, you can find my post about the shooting of Deputy U.S. Marshall Christopher Hill here.)
Mom and her letters. She had never really taken to using email, no matter how hard I tried to convince her it was easier and more convenient than relying on the U. S. Postal Service. Any time the topic came up, she’d smile and say I was right. Then she’d tell me a handwritten letter was more personal. I’d never really understood that before now. But, with her letter to me carefully tucked into a folder in the saddlebags on my Harley, I knew what she meant. That letter, no matter what it said, was the last of her I had. Or so I thought. Now there was another letter, one I had yet to see.
Standing there on the sidewalk in front of the café, I closed my eyes and inhaled. For a moment, I focused inward, finding my center. The morning had gone nothing like I’d expected and I felt off-balance. Nothing new, of course, at least not since learning of Mom’s death. But this was different. I felt as if I had stepped into an alternate universe, one where I didn’t know the players or the rules and I did not like that one bit. Continue reading