the beginnings: Edna and her sad world

Not much time for writing today. Here is the very beginnings of what may be a short story. The description of sadness as the color of snow is what gave birth to this character - what would that world, that life be like?

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Her sadness was the color of day-old snow, a dingy gray that had settled in places where there had once been such clean, fresh hope. Edna left the house now only for matters of necessity: the grocery store and getting the mail once each week. Her phone rang so little that she thought of disconnecting the line – to save money, of course – but thought that her niece might not approve, since she liked to call every few weeks.

It was rare that the sun appeared from behind the gray blanket of sky, even more rare that Edna got to see it. She kept her curtains closed, out of habit now more than anything else. If you asked her when that habit started, when any of her habits had their beginnings, she’d likely shrug her shoulders and let the question hang in the air, like the bits of dust you couldn’t see without the sunlight. Habits like that have slow beginnings, and you never think they’ll hang out to you so tightly when you first let them stick around.