For your reading pleasure, my new WIP:
Aurora hated her name. It was so weird. None of her friends had weird names, they had normal names like Beth and Michelle and Tammy and Carrie. Or Lisa or Tina.
She sighed. It was hard being seven years old. She tenderly tucked in her doll, Mary Elizabeth, for a nap, and returned to picking up the rest of her toys before her mom called her for supper. If she hurried, she’d have time to read.
When Aurora was thirteen, she got a new bicycle, a red one. A grown-up bike, with gears and handbrakes and everything. She rode all over the neighborhood, to the park, and once she and Carrie went all the way down the main road to a pizza place.
At seventeen, she graduated high school and went off to college; at twenty-two, she was married and had a daughter. Throughout the next three decades, Aurora’s life was quite normal in spite of her name, but it was never boring.
And now, she was fifty years old.
And the unthinkable had happened. The world had ended.