A Greasy Spoon Interlude_Keira's Invention_Truly Alive_Life in a Leaf
Catalog Guide:
A Greasy Spoon Interlude
A Greasy Spoon Interlude Georgia tucked into her mixed grill with gusto; I had always envied her appetite. It was mid-July and hot as hell. The diner was by the roadside of interstate 55, a lot of miles from everywhere. I had met Georgia in college, where she was taking a master’s in veterinary studies, and I was majoring in biology. I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her. She walked straight up to me, introduced herself, and asked me my name. From that day forward, she insisted on calling me Abi-normal instead of the usual “Gale-force everyone christened me on finding out my name was A...
Keira's Invention
Keira tried to fight the frown that was wrestling for control of her face. She didn’t want to look like a grouchy child on national television. “It’s cute. Really Keira, and I look forward to seeing what you do with your future, but-” Here came the truth following his lie. “It’s just not possible. Trust me, I’ve been in the energy business for decades pushing the technology to its limits,” he stopped to drink water from the table in front of him, “and this just isn’t feasible.” “Perhaps, Michael, the only thing you’ve pushed to its limits is yourself. This is possible. My...
Truly Alive
Panic surrounded Brielle as she flew down her apartment stairs and burst from thwww.onedoor.cce door at the bottom. She was so late for work. If only she hadn’t stayed up most of the night binge-watching her favorite detective show, she might have woken up earlier. She had promised herself she would never do that again, but it was always ‘one more episode.’ She would be lucky to keep her intern job at this rate. The parking lot was crowded with old-beat-up cars of every size. Brielle was looking for a faded red car, the oldest thing in her life, but arguably, the most reliable. Clicking the button...
Life in a Leaf
Life in a LeafI’d always been too tall, that’s the short of it. My mother liked to joke about how it felt to deliver me: like trying to suck in a piece of spaghetti that just keeps on coming and coming and coming until you know you can’t swallow it all. Except in reverse, of course.All through school, I towered over all the girls and most of the boys. Jokes like “Gee, I’d love to ask you out, but I can’t shout loud enough up there to ask you” and “Has anyone seen Lucy’s face lately?” got old pretty quickly, and I took refuge in what most outcast-types usually do: silence, lots of reading, and ...