Foley's Phone_Derek the Librarian_Thank You For The Music_A Day to Remember
Catalog Guide:
Foley's Phone
Please, don’t do it. Despite imagining that his cell phone begs him for mercy, Foley Gaspers wants to mercilessly drown it.Foley wonders why the bathroom he uses in his mother’s house has not one, but two sinks. Two large, rectanwww.onedoor.ccgular porcelain washbasins. The only sinks he used for the ten years before moving back in with his mom were part of the same stainless-steel unit as a prison cell toilet. When there were disciplinary issues, he’d be released from his quarters once a day for less than ten minutes to take a shower. He would return to his cell after the shower and eat his dinner at an ir...
Derek the Librarian
When you go to the library, you expect a quiet, sweet, old lady, right? Or at least your librarian is always a woman. I don’t know why, but my librarian must always be a woman. She’s my go to when I desperately need a book and I don’t know what it is. But my librarian always knows what I need; somehow she just knows. So when I went to the library on Tuesday after work, really in need of a book, I was shocked not to find Susan, or Nancy, or even Gina who works part-time, but this Derek character. Yes, he’s talk, dark and handsome, but I need a librarian, not the love interest in my romance nove...
Thank You For The Music
"That's so tacky!" “Hmm?” I was jolted from my daily trance.“Your songs!” she mumbled, looking out the window. “They’re so tacky.”“Oh,” I reached for the CD player while keeping my eyes on the road, “I’ll stop...”“NO!” she interrupted sharply.Startled, I pulled back my hand, “OK!”“I mean... it’s fine!” she crossed her arms over her seatbelt.“OK.”That was the first conversation I’d ever had with Joy despite having driven her to and from school for the past ten days.Seventeen years ago, when George had introduced me to her, she nodded and went upstairs.It was very awkward and I wanted so badly t...
A Day to Remember
“Did you check the mail this morning?”I look up from the other side of the table where I sit with my morning coffee and toast, trying in vain to finish the news article I’ve already invested twenty minutes in. “Benny, it’s too early for the mail, we’ve only just gotten up. Are you expecting something?”The sweet scent of cinnamon drifts from his bowl of oatmeal, much of which he appears to be wearing. Remnants of his napkin, torn into dozens of pieces, now float atop the coffee in his cup.“Robbie said she sent me a Father’s Day card.”I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper a short prayer to God or ...