She didn't look at him. Not today. Not ever. They'd shared the #15 bus every weekday for four years. Reliable as clockwork they glided through the streets together; alone. She with her Wall Street Journal, small frowns forming with the turn of each page. He with his headphones pumping out Led Zeppelin, eyes mostly closed.
Every few minutes he looked over at her, tried to catch her eye. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she would put down the black and white pages of bad news and, only for a second, gaze at the man in the red jacket....
"I'm writing you a ticket," the cop said.
"That isn't fair," I complained. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"You're selling illegal oranges in a public place," the other cop admonished me. "That means a fine, and you're lucky we're not taking you down to the station."
"What's the matter with my oranges?" I cried despondently. Those oranges were all I had. I would be destitute without them, and what little income I could get from them. I had to convince them not to take that away from me. My family was counting on me; I couldn't let them down.
"Hmm,...
I shot my butler. I didn't mean to, i swear. It was an out of body experience. i didn't know what i was doing until i had pulled the trigger. i mean, Jeeves had been awesome. Why on Earth had i shot my butler?? and, more importantly, how in the world had i shot my butler? I didn't even own a gun, for heavens sake! Maybe i was hallucinating. But how does that make any sense? if I hadn't shot my butler, who had?It was the only solution that made any sense. I had shot my butler. Oh my gosh,...
So, I left. I couldn't stand it anymore. I had had enough. Absolutely enough. There were no more chances for me. I knew that if I stayed, it would be the end of me. The end of the me I was trying to become. I wanted it, so depsertaly, I wanted it. If I could just make it to the finish line. But first, I had to break away from this pack of slower runners. I feared that if I used my energy now, too much iof it, I wouldn't have enough for the end. The end of the race...
Man do I ever love typing ampersands. Seriously. Whenever I type one, it's like the whole universe shits solid gold joy right on my lap. Life is all sunshine and rainbows and Barbie Doll bumholes whenever I type an ampersand. I'm actually feeling a bit melancholy right now, so I'm gonna type an ampersand.
&
HOLY SHIT AM I EVER HIGH ON LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!! SERIOUSLY, IT IS LIKE RONALD MCDONALD AND ORCA THE KILLER WHALE ARE BOTH TAKING ME ON A ROCKET TRIP TO PLUTO TO SEE SAMMY DAVIS JUNIOR STRANGLE MIMES WHILE WEARING LEONARD NIMOY'S SPOCK OUTFIT!!!!
Let...
The lamp wouldn't turn on and I had to sleep in the dark. I had to imagine what was lurking without light. I was afriad at first and then my eyes adjusted. My pupils opened up. In the morning the sun came in a few strands at a time and I realized that I was still alive and the monsters, goblins, all the things I'm afraid of didn't get me. The light doesn't have to be on to feel safe. Safety is still there with light. I listen to my dog snore and she snorts. She is fat and I...
In a world where walking was obsolete, Pat often wondered what the ground would feel like beneath his feet. Would it be spongy and soft, giving just a little with each step? Perhaps it was cold and hard, slippery like ice. Sure, hovering about everywhere was convenient and not at all physically demanding, but he longed for his feet to, just once, touch the earth below him.
Everybody knew, though, that if you touched the ground, you'd instantly explode. Pat didn't feel like exploding any time soon, so he just kept on floating. Damn those scientists and their exploding topsoil...
The argument over the preferred pronunciation of "Pax Romana" bloomed into a bloody fistfight, not that it was terrifically violent so much as the pugilists were notorious bleeders. The patch of snow on which they sparred began to resemble the flag of Japan as arms unfurled, elbows snapped back, and fists clenched so tight, thumbs overlapped knuckles.
Inside, my kung pow shrimp cooled under the air vent.
Dear Sarah
She didn't look at him. That's why I know that she was lying. I know that maybe I ought to say something but how can I hurt my daughter with that kind of news. Joanne has been more like a sister than a best friend so should have known better than to act like that. I am telling you truthfully Sarah, but I feel like killing her. Really.
Lara will be devestated and after the miscarriage it might send her back to the psychiatric hospital, I'll do whatever it takes to stop that happening. Do you remember what...
She was supposed to be running. Fifteen more miles to go. But the butterflies caught her attention and she couldn't drag herself away.
"Go! Go! Go!" she heard the spectators shout. Or was that her subconscious?
She had to keep running she told herself. She needed the prize money for her next search. Money that would buy her time and equipment she would need. A top of the line GPS system, tape recorder, memory sticks. Anything that would help her track down her sister.
A year ago, her sister left a note and disappeared without a trace. And Amelia had...