Vulnerable Read Online Free PDF Page A

probably did spend all day thinking. Great , he thought, all day I thought and didn’t even write. The publishers are sure going to be happy with me…the novel needs to be done in two weeks…
                “I’m losin’ you again,” Millie laughed, turning around to check on the casserole again.
                “Sorry,” Michael laughed back before continuing, “Why do you keep checking it? I’m sure a couple minutes won’t really make any difference.” He laughed as though he were joking but was sincerely curious.
                “Oh, I broke the oven a few weeks back and now it’s always on 550 degrees,” she peered through the oven door again, “along with it went the oven light too.”
                “Why don’t you just call up Mrs. Withersworth and ask her to get someone to fix it?”
                Millie shook her head. “I couldn’t bear doing that; she’s done so much for me already. I don’t have an actual job and still have to finish my degree…she pays me enough to get by to take care of this place as well as letting me live in it and letting me eat whatever I want… I couldn’t bear to let her know I failed.” Her eyes saddened and Michael could see them glistening against the heat radiating out of the oven. “What if she found someone more capable of running this place and I couldn’t work with the youth anymore? What if I had to move back with…” she clapped her hand over her mouth and looked as though she were about to puke.
                “Millie? Are you okay?” Michael asked. He glided over to her and clasped his hands on both of her slender arms. She was shaking slightly and Michael could hear her rapidly breathing. “Millie…” he whispered, “What’s going on?” This seemed to break her out of whatever state she was in. She turned her head to look straight at him.
                “What are you talking about?” she asked with the straightest face Michael had ever seen a human form. It gave him the creeps and he felt his eyes widen as his eyebrows furrowed.
                “Wha—,” he began but was cut off by the smoke alarm going off.
                “Oh dang it!” Millie booed under her breath as she flapped a hand through the billowing smoke. She took a heat pad and pulled out the charcoal block that once was a developing casserole. She slammed it onto the top of the stove with a cacophonous clatter. “Well,” she sighed, “I guess we should go out to eat tonight, huh?” she turned her head and smiled. Michael’s spirits rose.
                “Absolutely,” he replied, “Let’s go out to dinner.”
     
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                “So what’s it like being a novelist?” Millie asked Michael with a mouth full of before-dinner salad.
                “It’s all right,” he replied. His fork was having a jousting match with a grape tomato on his plate, but all the tomato seemed to want to do was roll away. “I mean, I started because I loved it, but… now I kind of have to do it… and ever since…” his fork stabbed the grape tomato and his heart stopped. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. His heart began to beat again. This caught Millie’s interest, and before she could ask any questions, he answered the only one she had been curious to get an answer to. “Ever since my wife died, I’ve found it hard to express myself in what I write.” The busy restaurant became no less chaotic, but to the two of them, the air became still and silent—a ghostly calm.
                “I—I’m so sorry to hear that,” Millie said morosely. Her voice sounded sincere but her eyes sparkled as if Michael had just invited her into the biggest party of their senior year.
                He shrugged and plopped the tomato into his mouth. Millie’s long eyelashes fluttered as she blinked slowly, thinking,