When she got back to her apartment someone had written something in white chalk on the wall next to the front door. It said: YOU THINK TOO MUCH OF YOURSELF.

She put down her shopping and stood looking at what had been written. At first, she assumed that she was the target but then, when she thought about it, it was also quite possible that this could be aimed at anyone and everyone. Why would she be singled out for this kind of thing? She wasn’t famous, although she had had some modest success as a writer and as a result she got letters from people who had read her work. Some of those people told her about the effect her words had had on them. How they’ve been helped through grief. How they had rediscovered love. How they now saw the world in a different way. But was she really any different to these people? The words came to her, she wrote them down, but then they were gone. Out there. For all to see. So why would anyone assume that somehow this had made her vain? While the attention she’d received as a result of her writing was rewarding, it didn’t make her feel special. Nor did it make her believe that she should be regarded as important. And it certainly hadn’t made her rich. It was true that she had somewhere nice to live and she could afford to go on holiday, but she still got the bus round town. And she still responded to all the letters she received from her readers, even if she had to set aside time to do that. Last week she did get impatient waiting to be served in a shop, but she wasn’t rude to the assistant. It was a natural reaction anyone might have. We all have things that irritate us. And just because someone might know her through her books, did that mean she had to behave like a saint all the time? Surely, she was entitled to be ordinary like everyone else.

She wondered if she should go into her apartment and get a basin of water and a sponge to clean the chalk off the wall. But then again, perhaps she would leave it for a while. Those words were now out there for anyone to see. Instead, she thought that she could clean the windows of her apartment. Spring had arrived and the rooms would fill with brightness. Her very own territory of light.