She fumbled around in her brain, searching desperately for the right word to finish the sentence.
"The golden orb...."
The golden orb what? The golden orb sank behind the trees? No. Too plebeian. Frustrated, she threw the notebook on the desk and stomped to the kitchen. It was dinnertime anyway and she was getting hungry.
She opened the refrigerator door and perused the contents. Moldy cheese, a three-week-old steak, some yellow mushy thing that had no name. Her prospects were not looking good. The cupboard was just about as bare. A pack of Ramen, a can of pinto beans, and some stale crackers.
She frowned, leaning back against the counter. She knew her purse held no cash and the pizza place she liked would no longer take her credit cards. Who would've thought that when she gave up her career as an accountant to write that she'd end up like this. At least she owned her house, had no mortgage, and her bills were minimal. The only major stumbling block was food, really. The other essentials (electric and internet) could be paid for out of the mountain of savings she had accrued over the two decades of working a boring, stifling job. But she hated dipping into her savings for more than that. She preferred to sell a few articles a month to cover the necessary expenses, even though her real passion lay in writing fiction.
Sighing, she turned back to the cupboard, pulling out the Ramen. It was the last pack. She'd have to run to the store today if she wanted any other meals. She put the pot of water on the stove to boil, set the Ramen next to it, and went back in to stare at her notebook.
The sharp smell of plastic made her remember that she had put on water several minutes later and she bolted to the kitchen. She'd left the Ramen too close to the burner and there was plastic melted all over the stove. It was stuck to the noodles, the burner, and even the pot, though she didn't know how it had managed to drip upward.
Sighing, she turned off the burner and pulled the pot away. She tossed the sticky mess in the sink and pulled out a wet rag.
"I can't believe I melted my food," she mumbled. She worked away for a moment, then her hand stopped. "Melted my food... melted.... The golden orb melted behind the green barrier to the world.... that's it! I found the word!"
She dropped the rag and raced to her notebook, food and the mess completely forgotten.
**There are 15-minute writing dashes at Milk Wood in Second Life every day at 5amSLT and 6:30pmSLT. This story is from the 5-9-11 morning dash, using the prompt "word."**