She made pie again. She never lets me have any, but this time she made one huge mistake: placing the pie on the windowsill. Quiet as a mouse, I sneak over to the window and hide in the bushes as she looks around for me. When she doesn't see me, she shrugs and turns away. Fast as a rabbit, I jump up onto the windowsill, knock the pie to the ground, and quickly eat. The old lady peers out her window and shouts at me. I'm probably going to go to bed without dinner, but it's worth it. I got...
Dishes. Toaster. Coffee. Napkins.
Her breakfast routine was always the same. She performs it today as she did on so many days before, and as she would on every day for the rest of her years.
She brushes the tablecloth clean, while she waits for the coffee. She quietly assembles everything: sugar, milk, scones, jam. She does not speak.
She painstakingly sets two places, attentive to every detail. Her cup of coffee would receive two spoonfuls of sugar. The far cup would receive three. Always three.
The toaster signals that breakfast is ready. She pours the coffee, lays out the...
This happened every single time.He stared at the blank piece of paper. It was taunting him. He sharpened his pencil again. He traced the edges of the paper again. He looked out the window. The rain was falling again. Softly. Looking back at the paper, he wondered why he ever tried to write. He put the pencil to the paper, thinking the action would prompt the thought. But it just left a small mark. He smudged it with his finger. If he could just write something. He tried to think about what he was feeling. Nothing. He tried to think...
I still washed his shirt. There was only his plaid shirt, because it was what he'd worn. But I still washed it. My son disappeared a few years ago. They found his body by the lake. He was wearing that old plaid shirt. The rest of his clothes I gave to my nephew, about his size. But that plaid short...I'd never give that to anyone. It was his, it was all I had left. The plaid shirt. His room was in perfect condition, but it didn't seem right. But his shirt in my soft-from-washing-so-many-dishes hands. It felt like everything was...
This morning I woke up from the loud screeching of my alarm, I woke up my grandson Tom and in my energised voice said "come on Tom let's go out to the cafe". Tom and I got ready within 5 minutes, we left the house and were walking through the loud streets of Vietnam. Tom stops suddenly in front of me and points to a toy store that he wanted to go in. Tom lead me into the toy store grasping tightly onto my hand pulling me into the store. He was jumping up and down and his heart was...
Time.
Time is everything. It allows you to understand what happened to you, and why.
In a minute, two, three. She understood.
She understood more with each minute than the minute before.
They were separated because it was too dangerous for him to stay. She was protecting him, she was doing the right thing. Or at least, she was trying to convince herself that it was the right thing to do.
Time. She thinks about all these years they spent together ; All of these things they accomplished.
And she felt pride in her sadness.
They were finally together, but...
So I wanted to go to Europe over the summer. I installed some security cameras in my house, because safety, you know. When I fast forwarded through some tapes, I noticed that the goldfish glas was slowly moving. I took some of the other cameras, so that I had extra angles of that goldfish glas. That night, my TV was stolen, while I was asleep in my bedroom. They broke in, stole my TV and all I could see was that goldfish. But that doesn't matter, because my goldfish is awesome. It is the best pet one could ever have....
since the days have past, a girl of a young of her time has to run away as if she ever knew what was going on. She had always had a taste for running away from others yet she didn't know what to come, after a few years the girl came when i said her name but she would always want to be alone by herself in a dark cold room of the night. After a day or so had passed she began to come when she was told even tho she didn't know why, she thought that she had...
Scott winced as he saw the woman spread the fingers of her left hand on the table. Of the standard complement of five, she had only her pinky and thumb remaining. The others appeared to have been cleanly sliced off.
"Ouch," he said, taking notes on her chart. "What was your occupation?" he asked politely, trying not to let the sight bother him.
"Data entry clerk," she said in a laconic, bitter tone.
"I, ah, yes, I can see how that would be ..." Scott coughed to disguise his confused verbal fumbling. He wrote some more, primarily as an excuse...
Backwards, triumphant, towering low over this once perfect field of brown and dusk.
held soft in the omnipresent rapture of breathing.