Okay, I know that I'm probably the only person who's all that excited about this, but I really enjoyed this opening to chapter 11 of my Sixteen Miles novel -- it was fun tweaking it this morning.

Elbows resting on the dark wood of the kitchen table, fighting the temptation to cup her face in her hands until her pounding headache receded, Melissa looked up at the three other people surrounding her, examining them with a clinician's eye. The two men seemed like exact opposites -- one lean and dark-haired, skin pale and fingers lightly drumming on the tabletop (anemic, borderline OCD?), avoiding her gaze. The big man seated to her right, with his shock of white hair and rosy cheeks (adult-onset diabetic? cirrhotic?), was all bluster and watchful blue eyes. The unsmiling woman across from her wore her gray-black hair long and loose on her thin, slightly slumped shoulders (early stage osteoporosis, possibly anorexic?). The woman smiled at her in a cold way that made Melissa think of her mirror the morning after a sleepless, restive night.

Who are you people, she wanted to ask, and what are you doing in my kitchen?

Happy Friday! Later...