I’ll probably tinker with it a bit, but this is the first draft version of the opening scene of my new novel.
Over the years Caden had grown used to her own voice. Her habit of speaking her thoughts out loud turned a few heads in local stores, but she didn’t notice. Long ago Caden had given over her idea of friendship to inanimate objects. They seemed to understand when her more mobile friends had all but given up. Just so long as they didn’t talk back it was all good.
“Come on, keys! Out we go. Once more into the breech, eh?” Keys made a familiar, welcome jingle in return. They seemed eager for another try. Map, snug in her back pocket and worn from much use, encouraged her out the door.
Today she decided to take Raincoat with her. It had long ago ceased to be “the raincoat”, its travel stained seams having earned it the right of familiarity long ago. It joined Flashlight in the seat beside her. Flashlight was a permanent resident in the car, smug in its ever ready state, banishing any hint of shadowed mystery neither of them had a use for.
And, of course, there was Slinky. Her dear companion of many adventures. Slinky had been something of an indulgence after the divorce, her one nod to unexpected, joyous midlife freedom. A Grand Am, Slinky wasn’t terribly exotic unless you considered her odd orange-red color. The car wasn’t even new. No matter. Neither was Caden.
Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with the apartment at all. Her boots waited where she had left them, huddled by the door lest she track backwoods mud onto a carpet that reminded Caden too much of her mother.