the crisp rustling of the paper was satisfying as megan wrapped the present. the snip snip of the sizzors made her feel free of a burden. one project down, still more to do.

she headed for the kitchen, her shoes slap-flapping against her heels. her neighbor ernie's mower roared out it's anger at being made to chew the lawn on such a warm day. charlotte's kids were yelling again, volleying words like a table-tennis game;one voice low, the other whiney-high, an untuned violin.

the handle to the sink moaned as she turned it, filling the sink with frothy bubbles. she was making sense of her world the only way she knew how, by cleaning, tiding, making lists.

megan crossed off the present-wrapping from her list. She then tore the page from the pad, crumpling it up and taking pleasure in the sound.

the pencil snapped as she pressed too hard. she rewrote the list with a new pencil. This was the third time she'd rewritten it.

she washed the dishes, and things became quieter outside. only the click-click of the wall clock, the whirr of the fan, and chink of the plates hitting each other disturbed her thoughts.