Goodnight...read the glowing sign above my bedroom door.
I shoveled myself further under the covers and sat with my flashlight, curled in my tiny igloo, my fortress of solitude, catching up on the secret stash of comics that I had hidden in the back of my closet.
I'd read sometimes until the flashlight flickered, in need of more juice from the cheap batteries I'd buy at the store with leftover lunch money. I'd fall asleep squinting my eyes so tight that I couldn't make out shapes on a page, and I'd wake up early to wash the sweaty inkstains from...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room.
I think they're me.
I mean, she - think it's a she, the lines are fuzzy - looks like me. A bit, anyway. She looks how I could be. Maybe how I should be. But she keeps flickering and altering - maybe she's just a potential me.
Or maybe she's all the potential mes.
I step closer to her - I can't tell, not really, that expression keeps shifting, but she seems to be happy about it, I think there's a smile (more smiles than frowns, anyway).
I open my mouth...
She opened the envelope and screamed. This luxury was purely due to the rough edge of the foil having cut into her thumb before she'd completely broken the electrical contacts just inside the ripped flap. The Army man who'd come within minutes of that first scream, had peered over her shoulder down inside the folded card and taken in the plastic, the wires and the detonator. To his credit, though he was clearly Protestant, he had paid her more attention than any man in her rather drab existence. Everyone else had vacated, but finally she was the centre of attention....
"Just drink the tea, Maggie." Custom said. He had set up a beautiful table with scones and tea and all the fripperies that go with it.
"I don't think so." Maggie said. She appreciated the gesture of friendship but Custom had been trying to control her for too many years for her to trust him now.
"I didn't poison it." He said, petulantly. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair to sulk.
"I'm sure you didn't but I've come too far now to bow to you." Maggie said as she hiked up her skirt...
She had already been waiting for half an hour, her foot tap tap tapping its heel against the cold tiles. A quick glance up at the clock on the wall – an old, crotchety thing which spurted into life once every creaking minute – tells her nothing beyond the fact that she's more nervous mow that the last time she looked. He was supposed to be here; him, with his knowing smile and faux-nervous laugh. A small case sat by her side; it was battered and scuffed in only the way something truly loved can be, something that has been carried and...
"And these words were brought to you by..."
Remember hearing that at the end of the six o'clock news? Elise wasn't sure if she were actually old enough to have heard it. Somehow though it had found its way into her vernacular. Wondering about paid endorsements seemed to be a much better topic then men lately. However the concept of the phrase was soon to bring on a revelation.
Later that night Elise met up with the girls to blow off some steam. After a few drinks a tall, gorgeous guy who went by, "Nick" approached. And as she half-heartedly...
Sandy was impressed. Her son, John, had never thrown a ball back like that before - so hard and fast that it bypassed her completely and flew over the wall at the bottom of the small garden they shared. "Nice one, Johnny!" she yelled. "Let me go and get it, I'll be right back!"
She yanked open the wooden gate recessed into the red brick wall and entered the narrow alleyway at the back of her house - and all the other houses like it. She looked left and right and spotted the ball rolling away from her, towards the...
"Which way to Omaha?"
Paint flakes blew in the wind. It smelled like gas. Anna's hair was matted; she could feel it knot further. She had nothing; the pockets of her pants were empty except for lint and paint flakes. And one quarter.
The men here knew nothing except that a woman, however unattractive and hagard, was standing in front of them. Who cared where Omaha was, anyways?
"You want some money, sweetie?" One of them whistled. "Ain't no one givin' you money in Omaha."
She rolls her eyes and walks away. Dust settles in the space above her clavicle....
I have wanted him since the first time I saw him on the screen. He wasn't my type, but he drew me in anyway. Classic good looks mingled with eccentric behavior to form this beautiful creature. His voice on the radio spoke to me intimately. His words dissipated into a fantasy, he said only the things I wanted to hear. I hear him say, "I've been hoping you would notice me like I noticed you." Oh, and I have. I have and I want. That he could see me how I see him. That he could know me and love...
Twist. Twist. Twist. The doorknob wouldn't turn. The door wouldn't open. And then Liz would find out why Sebastian was keeping her in his bathroom. It was a nice bathroom, the blue tiles matched the fluffy towels and everything was clean. Still locking someone in the bathroom wasn't proper etiquette. Proper etiquette was texting someone or calling them, and asking if they wanted to discuss their differences over coffee. Being polite wasn't tossing someone over their shoulder and locking them in their bathroom with an ominous "I'll be back."
Aargh. She was going to kill Sebastian for locking her in...