This is an unedited free write for NaNoWriMo ’18
She was half way down the block and she could still here her mom calling her name. She would have made it out unnoticed were it not for that stupid screen door. There was absolutely no way to close that door quietly.
“Would it hurt anyone to use a little WD40?” she thought.
She had two hours before her shift at the bookstore began, giving her plenty of time to sit with Ms. Annie for tea and stories. Millie had stumbled upon Ms. Annie a couple of months after she returned home from her failure at college. She had stormed out of the house in the middle of another “what are you doing with your life” lecture, earbuds firmly in place, blaring Linkin Park, intent of walking around the neighborhood until her parents found someone new to harass.
It was a little after ten in the morning, Ms. Annie was doing what she always did around that time. She was sitting in the grass next to her flower bed, picking weeds and chatting with blooms. Her overalls were a little too big and they were splotched with dirt stains. Her cotton button-up blouse was clean and pressed, a stark contrast to the well-worn denim. Millie was in her own little world and didn’t see the old lady, but Ms. Annie had heard the door slam and was watching from under the brim of her gardening hat. As Millie stomped passed Ms. Annie’s picket fence, Ms. Annie “accidentally” threw weeds at her.
The little clump of leaves and dirt nailed Millie right on the side of her face. She stopped dead in her tracks, livid. Little did she know she was about to find the best friend she had ever known.
It was November now, and Ms. Annie’s blooms were long faded. Instead of weed picking, Ms. Annie held tea on her front porch. Millie rounded the corner, that went between her parent’s house and Ms. Annie’s, and saw her friend sitting in the white rocker, the afghan that Millie made her on her lap, waiting to pour tea.