Here's the first paragraph of an abandoned novel. So many orphans on this laptop. And so many reasons for letting them all go. But when one door closes . . . well, you know the rest. Damn, this isn't bad either. Hmmmm.
Jane was never certain if she chose the beautiful things, or if they chose her.
She stood in front of her work table, about to begin, inhaling the last traces of ownership in the fabric stacks, the still-hopeful scents and colors of other people’s old clothing competing for her attention, wide-wale legs and cashmere arms curling into shapes that seemed to high-kick or wave at her, when a sharp knock on the alleyway door interrupted her.She frowned and looked over her shoulder toward the divided light window, but all she saw, at first, were wet cobblestones and the blinking spaceship tail light of an old blue Chevrolet.