Some days it was easy. Some, like today, were difficult. But this daily exercise of creativity was her commitment to herself. It kept her real. It kept her sane.

Getting out of the rut was the most difficult struggle. Routine, not fear, was the mind killer. Work, commutes, chores, all threatened to be more important.

“But I always feel good when I’m done,” she thought as she pushed past her mental blocks. Nearly 340 consecutive days made almost a year of habit, synaptic wiring that would be difficult to change.

Unhooking the window latch with deft experience, she crawled inside.

Young, probably strong, he lay helpless, asleep. Drawing her gun, she shot him.

Yes, it always felt better when she was done, she mused as she drove away. A shot a day.

Too bad she couldn’t post it to her blog.