First lines of the novel I won't be writing today: 

"'Dear Diary,

The anthrax is weaponized. The kids are at daycare. The dishes are done, and leftovers have been put away. Today, I'll stop being invisible; the world will know my name.'

With that, he stepped out into the brisk November morning, never to return home again."

— Damien Willis
October 9, 2013