Literature
Catching Up
Sarah Jane Smith pulled the belt of her dressing gown tighter across her stomach and padded out of her bedroom.
It was late. When she'd first cracked her eyes open to look at the clock next to her bed, she'd seen that it was 2:45. She'd groaned inwardly. I should be asleep, she'd chided herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Just another part of getting older, I suppose.
It was true. Sarah Jane was not a young girl anymore. She was older than she cared to admit, but she was in good shape for her age. She'd never taken up smoking or drinking, and she'd gotten plenty of exercise in her youth and even now. Every time she visited her GP she