Excerpt: Title Page

A shadow moved across the window. She could see it from the corner of her eye. In that same instant came a loud sound and then the sensation of her brain shattering.

Annelie sat on the floor of the flat in Paris. Her back was up against the couch. The room was light and airy. The windows to the balcony open. The maid must have done that, she thought dully. She also had the vague feeling that the television was on. She hated television.
A bag of too-salty, MSG laden chips lay beside her. She was mindlessly munching on them. They’d been imported by her.
As the gauzy curtains blew, she firmly decided that she would have to talk her brother into firing that maid. She had tried, but since this was his flat, it was not truly her decision to make.
The doorknob jiggled. She half-watched as it opened. Well, speak of the devil.
“Hey, Sabine,” Cade Marcus greeted his younger sister. She hated being called by her first name. And he knew it too.
His wife followed shortly behind him, carrying bags. She obviously was not pleased to be doing so. Annelie tried to remember her name but could not. Oh well.
“How ya doin’?” Cade sat down on the couch.
Annelie groaned noncommittally.
“That bad, eh? Gerard coming by every day?”
“Mmm.”
“That’s good.”
Annelie was again hit with the acute realization that she had not had a pleasant conversation with her brother that went beyond the most basic civilities since she was eight. At least in her remembrance. But that didn’t count for much nowadays.
“What do you want me to do with these groceries?” Cade’s wife asked from the kitchen island behind them.
“Just put the nonperishable ones out on the counter,” Cade instructed.
“Did you bring real food?” Annelie asked.
“Yes, we did,” Cade grinned. “Tullah wanted to eat out, but I decided against that.”
“Mmm,” Annelie leaned deeper into the front of the couch. Cade sighed and slid down beside her.
“Where’d you get those chips?” he asked, referring to the ones beside her.
“I had the American store import them.”
“Mmm,” Cade took one. “Beats this weird European food any day.”
“Yeah,” Annelie switched off the television set.
“Where’s Francoise?”
“I fired her.”
“Sabine!”
“Annelie.”
“Seriously, Sabine, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“She’s there for you. In case, you know-”
“It was only… once,” Annelie took a moment to produce the last word to her statement.
“But still-”
“You’re not yourself anymore. Have you written any?”
“I got one poem… done.”
“In three months? Come on, you wrote like three of those a day when you were in high school.”
“That was then.”
“You have to move one. Yes, Ni-”
“I don’t want to talk about that!”
Cade threw his hands up, “Fine, but you’re going to have to pull yourself together or-” he left off.
“Cade, we both know that Marie reports to you. And I… I just can’t. I can’t do this. My life died without,” she raised her hands to gesture to her body. “Me.”