Page One Of My Novel(la)

Mrs. Levy was bored. She lay slouched on her armchair. She yawned. Someone rang the doorbell. Company? Mrs. Levy hadn't had company over for years. She got up, still in her nightgown, and sauntered over to the door. 

"Oo's zere?" Her French accent was still prominent, despite her efforts to smooth it out as a child. No one answered. It was the mail. “Merde.”  she muttered under her breath. Mrs. Levy had gotten used to cursing by herself, alone. She opened the door as paper spilled  out from the mail slot. She sighed. Nothing was more boring than mail. Mail, mail…paper…paper…books. She decided to go to the library. She always went there when she had nothing to do. Now that her spouse was gone, well, she didn't know anyone there. George had always introduced her to new people. So much so that she'd