I...
I...I'm not sure what to say.
Lola.
God. Just the name. Just reading the name - a word, really and I'm gone. Just gone.
Do I actually remember her anymore? Sometimes, I wonder about that. Sometimes I think that what takes me away, what takes all ability to think or feel anything beyond the word, the name - LOLA...isn't really her at all.
There's this insidious thought that it's not her at all, but just what I always wanted her to be. And wouldn't that be the final victory? That I'm tormented by what I tried to make her...
He set the plate before her. He knew she wasn't hungry but he did it anyway. She didn't mind because she knew he went to a lot of trouble to put this dinner together. She always did all the cooking, he always did nothing. This time he put in some effort and she wanted to reward.
After thinking a moment while simultaneously offering idle, akward conversation, she realized, No, she didn't want this. She always did the cooking because she liked doing. he did this cooking because he felt obligated to. As if somehow performing a task traditionally done by...
It had been three weeks now, to the day, that Mira James had been absent from class. Mrs. Pendleton sighed with regret as she rubbed Mira's name off of her desk. Truancy was a sad reality that she was powerless to stop, and the school always needed to make room for new students.
She rummaged gingerly through the shelf, searching for the pile of junk that seemed to accumulate in every seventh-grader's desk. It would all be in the trash soon, leaving room for the next student's pencils, stickers, and other belongings.
It was empty. Clean, even. With a frown,...
'Pension.'
'No, come on, you stil saying it like an American.'
'I *am* an American.'
'Yeah but you're in Paris now.'
'You mean Paree.'
'Piss off. Now say it again. Pawn she on.'
'Nah. Too hard. It's pension.'
'I'm not going through with this unless you at least try.'
'Fuck it. I'm not. Grab the overhead bags and let's get off the plane.'
'No. I'm not getting of the plane until you at least try.'
He checked the tickets. 'How much does it cost to change the return flight?'
'You want to stay longer?'
'No. I'm changing it to the...
They had come up this mountain every wensday evening for the last three years, from the creation of there IOGT-lodge. The first one in this country and now there outdoor meetings was to come to an end. The lodge house was soon to be finished and there common soberity had a place to live
Indeed in a hundred years another generation will look at this photo and now the story some even beeing related to the heroic pioners of the movement.
How the small movement for soberity started in New York state now lived on and inspired so many generations...
It was difficult getting to people to understand that actually you wanted to be in the cage. That the cage was the safest place at the moment.
The rest of the world had gone mad - or at least, it seemed that way. Maybe the world had always been like this, maybe there had always been something in a stranger's eye, maybe there was always something in the rain that made it taste funny.
Maybe the drugs were wearing off, maybe he was finally waking up to the reality. Or the drugs were taking effect, maybe he was devolving (he'd...
The oil had come months ago now. They had thought it would disappear. It had always done so before.
But it had remained. It had refused to go. It had clung to them, like a desperate duckling clinging to a mother, only this duckling was parasite.
It had tainted them.
There was no escaping it. None whatsoever. They had tried it all, but it followed them. They wore it like a winter coat they had no reason for. It was summer now.
So he had set out, away. That had been his goal at first, but later when he saw...
the city was empty
winter empty, not
summer empty
snowstorm home-bound, not
bound for Myrtle Beach, or
flown to Florida or
wherever the hell
the neighbors went.
Christ, doesn't anyone stay
home anymore?
Sit on the deck in frayed nylon
beach chairs?
I can't even find them in
the stores anymore.
what happened?
where did everyone go?
it's the city...
it should
never
be
empty.
Penelope loved the fountain, loved the way the water sprayed, cooling her in the hot sun, making her clothes cling as she called her joy to the heavens.
"What are you doing?" asked the man in the blue uniform.
Some sort of park official, thought the girl. "Nothing. Just enjoying the water."
"This isn't a waterpark, you know," said the man, a note of disapproval hanging from his lips like a dangling cigar, ready to drop and burn.
"So?" she asked. She kicked up a fine spray as her feet pattered against the thin layer that had built up over...
Fireman? Firewoman? Fire...person?
Esme sighed as she approached her firetruck. The trouble with magic, she reflected, was that while it got you where you need to be quickly, that sometimes meant that you skipped over important parts of the path.
It had been a simple enough spell of purpose; she paid her fifteen hundred dollars, and in return she got given her perfect career. The career that she would enjoy the most, be most suited for...the career that would make her happy.
Purpose was a popular spell-type, and it had definitely resulted in a happier populace, but no one had...