. . . keep my gray

. . . I am not who you think I am.

You may have suspected by now that I write under a pseudonym. To be frank – and I am nothing if not frank –  I am not Emma J.  You probably knew that.

But also the pictures you think you’ve seen of me?  I lifted them from someone else’s life.  That’s not me – placid and fading into grey, twitching a little with the usual midlife impatience, but generally content within the cinnamon-spice aura of a happy home and healthy family.

Not me. . . .

.

[story: “a fiction: True Confessions“]

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