Summer was in full swing with family trips to the campsite, where Miss Flo did amazingly well. Trips to see friends she doesn't always have time for. She even took in a car show just for fun. She's had pool days with her nephews, beach days, and many quiet moments. 

Moments like this one. The writer sits at her desk, slowly making her way through the small edits her readers left. Things like spelling mistakes or rephrasing something. She'll save the bigger notes for a second run, though. She's still not fully in the editing headspace, but hey, she's trying.  

Beth leans against the writer's desk, "So do they like my story?" 

"They do. I need to add a few more details to a few fight scenes, make some emotional moments feel more real, maybe pick up the action a bit faster. But no, everyone who got back to me liked our story." The writer smiles as she starts moving the comments around. 

"Oh good! I can't wait to see what you do next." Beth smiles that same smile mothers often do when they want to encourage you. 

The writer switches tabs to check her personal email; still nothing on the job front. She's trying not to worry. She's been smart with her money; she has time to breathe for the summer. It's not like she hasn't looked for work; just nothing has panned out. Yet. She reminded herself there is a yet on that sentence.  

 She double-checked to make sure she hadn't missed anything else—nothing about a job or an update from the school she was applying to. She could feel the frustration and overwhelm creep in. 

DING! 

A notification from the writer's phone interrupts her thoughts. She smiles; there are two people it could be, and both would be great. 

It could be her best friend with some update on her children's antics of the day. Or it could be the new gentleman in her life.  

She picks up her phone, oh! It's him. Her smile widens. She turns to the flowers that have been sitting on her table for about a week.  He remembered her saying that no boy she'd ever dated had bought her flowers before. 

He'd remembered and wanted to be the one to fix this fact. She made him his favourite cookies; he cooked her dinner. He asked about her book and listened and remembered facts about her made-up world. "I remembered" is slowly becoming her favourite phrase.