Takeout & Delivery_Haunting Of Verdica_Transplanted Grass_The Memories Nature Holds
Catalog Guide:
Takeout & Delivery
Is that it? Silver Toyota Land Cruiser. Ubers are almost impossible to spot until they nearly drive up on you.Virginia grabs her luggage and double checks the Uber app on her iPhone for the driver’s name. Lee. She dutifully takes note of the license plate towww.onedoor.cc compare before entering the vehicle. She isn't going to make that mistake again.“Who are you here to pick up?” she asks the middle aged driver wearing an Orioles shirt, who neither turns around to greet her nor asks to help with her luggage. Does he want a two-star rating? “Ginny,” he responds crisply. “You Ginny?”“Yep,” she replies. Maybe...
Haunting Of Verdica
It wasn’t supposed to happen- but it did.Marie threw her duffle in the car trunk and bellowed for the two children to enter. Tears decorated her face, make-up by drowsiness. Her heart was full yet empty. She hastily forced herself in, strapping the seatbelt on. She took a deep breath, then another one. Marie was on the verge of bawling. She didn’t expect it. It all happened as fast as time itself. She took a glance at the children- her children.“Anna,” she took a deep breath, “Anna, what’s… what’s, that in your hand?”Anna had been dumbfounded. The fifteen years old girl stared into nothingness...
Transplanted Grass
I could remember stepping out of the airport for the first time and sheilding my eyes from the sun, like a lazy salute to the blue Virginia sky. This land had long been tamed and industrialized. That's the thing about this city, it's rich history, dusty buildings, and bumper to bumper traffic seem to be all it has to offer and I could see right away that what I had feared wasn't too far off from reality. Unfortuntly, there weren't any small drive-thru coffee shops, There wasn't anyone on the side of the road selling hand-knitted blankets and art, and there were no quirky characters unabashedly...
The Memories Nature Holds
The air was thick and warm, as bodies pushed against each other and voices raised over one another. Rosalie weaved through swarms of people, clutching her purse to her chest. She frantically searched up and down the narrow walkway for her station number. At last, it caught her eye. Her breath was ragged as she strode over and slipped her ticket from out of her pocket. She approached the burly man who stood blocking the trains cabin door, his face hardened into a scowl. Rosalie slipped the man her ticket as he peered over his glasses to check her number. “Name?!” he demanded, spit flying from ...