Sean
By Jane Jones
He was late again. This had happened a lot over the past month and tonight she was determined to find out why.
She had been busy all day clearing out his wardrobe. He never did this and sometimes it annoyed her so she did it for him and it was beans on toast for his dinner. She hated doing him beans on toast as she always thought it was not a proper dinner but tonight she just wanted to make him happy so beans on toast it was going to be.
She poured herself another glass...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
It occurred a while back, and while I was living, I thought it was pretty unfair. Most people get 60, 70 years of life. Enough people got 30 or 40 years of life.
I got 25. By the time you're 25, you're only finally getting your last degree, your first bit of experience, stepping over that last big stone in your path before you enter the real world. The one where you earn enough money to do...
#hashtag condo livin.
Last year i bought a tiny orange tree to spruce up my tiny patio. #condolife.
Over the many months, I watered it and moved it around my patio- chasing patches of the much needed sun. #citruslove. #vitamin c #noscurvy #
I noticed that my oranges were closer to the size of grapes. I notices that there was some missing step....Some missing ingredient. They were small. Anemic.
I replanted that orange tree. Watered it. Placed in the sunniest corner of my tiny patio.
Many, many months later. My orange tree produced what looked like clementines.
With great pride...
I'm with stupid.
What an offensive shirt to wear on a first date, I thought as I picked at my salad. As soon as it was socially acceptable, I'd excuse myself to the bathroom, where I'd conveniently get a call from my dog's babysitter.
As we finished dinner, I prepared to make my dash to the bathroom, but he stopped me. "It's the shirt, isn't it?"
"I didn't say anything," I replied.
"I know you didn't, but you definitely noticed it. You'd have to be, well, stupid not to. So here's the story." His voice took on a sad tone....
In the clouds. That was the place to be when it was high summer. Three young angels danced through the morning mist, white linen gowns making no sound as they moved. "Dahlia, when will the mist clear so we can collect the first morning light?" asked one. "When it clears, Opal." Dahlia said patiently, looking at her empty jar. "Be patient, you two. The mist will clear soon, i can just see the sun." said the last, sitting on a rock. Suddenly, the morning sun burst through the mist, lighting the world. The three angels were quick. They scooped up...
Vanquished.
Caroline let out a little giggle. Three years, seven months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty-something minutes ago she'd eaten her last piece of chocolate.
"I never thought I'd manage it," she said to Paul as she stirred her coffee. "I'd been addicted for...ooh...I'm twenty-seven now so....twenty-one years?" She sipped her coffee, her tongue shocked by the burning liquid as she took her first caffeine hit of the day.
"So how's your New Year's give-up-smoking kick going?"
Paul shrugged. "S'okay. I had my last ciggie with breakfast on Monday."
"But that's two whole days into the new year!" said...
Wine. The God of the Sublime. Dionysian times cured the ill humored people by taking grapes, fermenting them, turning it all into a drinkable solution that would cure terrible moments in a life by twisting them slowly away with each sip of this smooth purple pulp.
I felt the first effects of wine when my friends and I would buy a cheap bottle of Yellow Tail, pop off the cork and take slow swigs as if this was our solution to boredom, happiness, sadness, and just life in general. We sipped as if wine was our blood, our fuel, our...
It was becoming night. Quickly, stealthly, Navy SEALS approached a haunting compound. Sand-surrounded, barbed-wire covered; its contents unkown, its inhabitants, suspected. This was do-or-die time. The code "Geronimo" was on everyone's minds. This desert, this foreign country, was their home for the past year. Now they had Presidential orders, "capture or kill," "wanted, dead or alive." It wasn't just read off of an old saloon poster. This was it. With intelligence officials watching, and waiting, the world went about its business, until five hours later, when everyone got word of the actions that occurred inside that haunted-looking building. A terror-leader...
The Bronx Zoo in my mind was empty. Maybe the gazelles were milling around Yankee Stadium, waiting for Catfish Hunter. The green grass of memory, my synapses folding in the sweeping July breeze, beheld the sweet roots of my birthday candles, climbing the kitchen air like lithesome monkeys, nimble as the imagination.
The results were in.
Her name wasn't even on the list. Not division A, not division B, not any of the special divisions . . . what the heck?
Okay, calm down, she thought, they let you take the test, so all the paperwork gets through. You can't fail the test, it isn't that kind of test, and they would've told you if something was wrong on your end, it was probably an administrative error. Right?
Who should she talk to? She had no idea. Okay, she could ask at the main counter. That's what it for, right? You don't...