Book Sales

I knew my book sales were lagging, but I had been hoping I could hang on a bit longer. I needed to hang on longer. If I had to move out of my apartment, I didn’t know where I would go. I could no longer depend on my parents to help and I had no siblings who would let me sleep on their couch. There had only ever been Kerri and I hadn’t talked to her in years. There had been a growing resentment she would never dare to admit, but I had been ready for some time. I had chosen my words carefully for the brewing storm. But when the words came, they came out incorrectly.  

I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but I was tired of being taken advantage of. Tired of her stealing my ideas and presenting them as her own. My bank account was suffering and I was running low on ideas for a spectacular side hustle. I was down to only owning a bed, my computer, a few dishes and my clothes. And my beloved typewriter. The typewriter was the only reason I had become a published author. My grandfather had longed to become an author, but pushed away his dreams when he became a father. I knew I could honor his memory by becoming an author myself, but I had never expected it to be so exhausting. But I knew I had one last chance. One last chance to prove Kerri wrong.