Best and worst place to write:
She sat there on the couch curled up with a glass of tea next to her and nobody was home. Her internet had gone out an hour ago as she sat in the silence completely undisturbed. She pulled out her notebook from next to the crackling fireplace and wrote. She wrote about another world similar to ours but yet so different. Then she wrote for hours as the thoughts flowed out of her inner mind and grasped at the truth within her own heart.
It seemed like everywhere she turned added on another job for her day. The laundry never ended, the dishes had piled up and her toddler, Nick, had another sleepless night. As he cried in his crib, as she placed him down for a nap, she grabbed for her notebook. The pages had been ripped out by grimy, sauce-drenched fingers. She tried to drowned out the shrills as she got transformed into a world full of palm trees, fruity drinks and a handsome man with perfect, auburn hair.
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