Vodka martini was her drink of choice, and on this morning (as on many mornings) it was her breakfast of choice. Standing at the wet bar in her faded pink terrycloth robe, she slowly stirred in a drop of vermouth for her second helping while reaching for the pack of Camels that lay on the bar.

God, it's only 9:15, she thought. What am I going to do today?

She began her journey through the house making her way down the tall, narrow corridor toward the front entrance to retrieve the morning paper. The light green walls made every passage seem like a visit to the great Wizard of Oz - only there was no luster, and certainly no Wizard - only the door at the end and an enormous mirror on the right-hand side. She greeted her reflection without a word, only turning her head slightly and pulling her gray-streaked hair behind her ears. After studying the lines around her sleepy eyes, she scolded her reflection. "God, Mavis. It's no wonder Harold left."

Enough of the mirror. She pulled a cigarette from the pack with her lips and lit it. She continued her pilgrimage for the morning paper, trying to exhale Harold along with the smoke from her first drag of the Camel.

When Mavis opened the door, the sunlight blinded her; but even with her limited vision, the path to the paper was a familiar one, and she proceeded with her morning routine.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hooper," said Juan. Juan was Mavis's groundskeeper for over fifteen years - never an unkind word, never a complaint, and always too happy for Mavis's taste. Every morning he gave "Mrs. Hooper" the same salutation, and every morning she ignored him. She picked up the paper and returned to the house.

Inside, she stopped to let her eyes re-adjust to the cavern lighting of the house and sauntered to the den where she parked herself on a leopard-skin sofa. In fact, the entire den sported the "jungle" look - inspired by a trip to Graceland. After seeing Elvis's famous Jungle Room, she had hired some decorators to mimic the design; and although the imitation wasn't exactly like Elvis's, it had become Mavis's own little sanctuary.

She moved an ashtray closer, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television just in time for the "The Price Is Right." It was more or less background noise while Mavis read the paper. But Bob Barker was more comforting than "Days of Our Lives" - and less distracting.

Mavis turned to the obituaries. It was habit now ever since her sister Marlene had passed away. She scanned the pictures, the ages, and the "survived by's" surmising how each of the faces had died. Some young, some old. Car wrecks? Old age? Terminal illnesses? Mavis noticed where a family had asked for a donation to a cancer charity in lieu of flowers.

Cancer.

She cursed the word aloud every single time she saw it or heard it. Mavis had always thought that cancer was something that people died from because they couldn't afford adequate treatment. Why Marlene? Mavis had more money than could be spent in a lifetime and still couldn't save Marlene.

Mavis looked up from the paper and stared into nothingness through a thin veil of smoke that dissipated from her cigarette. Why Marlene? Why my little sister, my best friend? Mavis reminisced about all the mornings Marlene had come to the house. They would laugh over coffee and then spend most of the morning gardening and landscaping. In fact, Mavis and Marlene had done all of the landscaping at the Hooper estate. It was only after Marlene's death that Harold recommended hiring Juan to maintain the grounds.

Harold. What did he know anyway? He couldn't possibly understand my grief. Who is he to call me obsessed? The nerve of him to suggest that I see a shrink. He was the one who left; I didn't make him leave. He didn't know Marlene the way I did. Over thirty-three years of my life given to him, and he just goes away.

Marlene began to tear up. She turned her head to see a picture on the end table - Mavis and Marlene standing in front of Graceland. Marlene had wanted to go there before she became too ill to travel. Mavis had made sure they went. Still staring at the picture, Mavis could hear Marlene's voice: "You need a Jungle Room of your own, Mavis."

Sixteen years since that last battle. Marlene's in a better place now, thought Mavis. And on that thought, Mavis set the paper on the end table, rose to her feet, and left the den to have another vodka martini.

She drank the martini without stopping until the glass was empty. Mavis felt tired and went upstairs to take a nap.

Mavis Hooper woke the next morning and went downstairs to the wet bar for breakfast.

What am I going to do today? she thought.

Will Townsley is an undergraduate student at UTA where he studies English and music. He wrote a song entitled "How Long," which was published by Al Jolsen/Black and White Music in Nashville, Tennessee.