Denise lifted the 3-pound stack of ivory white papers off her rectangular shaped desk and brought them into her boss’s office.

Her pace quickened on her way back as she heard the familiar ring of the telephone.

“Steve Fotona’s office, how may I help you?” she said in an energetic tone.
She grabbed the nearest pen in sight,
flipped the page in the lined yellow notebook pad,
and wrote down the numbers as spoken to her.

After hanging up the phone, she glanced at the ticking clock and smiled.

Yes, it was 5:00.

Denise spun around her black computer chair as if she was a little kid.

She grasped her Coach purse and followed the yellow sunlight streaming through the doors of “Pictureaid Company.”

In Transit

Denise clutched the cold meal of the door handle,
and pulled with all her strength.
As the orange glow streamed across her pale skin, she couldn’t help but stop in her tracks and absorb the rays.

She reached into her bag, and pulled out her keys.
Her body sank into the seat of her bright red convertible.
Denise zoomed out of the parking lot.

As the radio blasted the song “Sweet Caroline,” Denise beamed as the

classic tune brought her right back to high school.
The bright green bushes and bundles of leaves on the trees distracted Denise as she stopped at each stop sign.
The honking brought her back to reality as she pressed on the gas pedal, passed the Walmart, and turned right at the emerald sign labeled Chestnut Avenue.
She pressed the “pack of gum- shaped” garage opener, and pulled the car in.

At Home

The old garage door creaked as Denise stepped inside her town home.
She hung her keys on the hook attached to her light green colored walls.
She grabs her blue box, takes a glass of water, and heads toward the couch.
She plops down, letting the beige La-Z-Boy form to her tired body.
Denise lifts her arm and pulls off the itchy, honey colored wig that has hidden her Cancer from the world.

She opens the box and begins taking her 15 pills…

2 blue

6 yellow

4 white

3 red.

With each swallow she cries a little harder, as her eyes are fixated out the window at a mother with a child-
something Denise knows she will not live to have.