Dandelion Roots_The Lost Manuscript_Not so unusual_Traction
Catalog Guide:
Dandelion Roots
We write our histories in permanent marker on the bathroom stalls of life.She types it in and stares for a while into space, searching for the reason, as if her muse might appear out of thin air. There is nothing, no one there. She hits the little blue button anyway.She enjoys the hopefulness of the moment—perhaps they will see merit in her poetry, perhaps they will ask, like she does, where it originates. She wonders if there is life here. Will something grow from these seeds she’s planted?Setting her phone aside, she resumes dicing onions. She is not good at cutting onions, or cutting anythi...
The Lost Manuscript
I sat on my mother’s pristine leather couch, second-guessing why I’d even come. We never got along much when I was growing up and lost touch when I went to college. She thought I should have stayed at home and worked at the family brewery with her and my brother; I couldn’t think of anytwww.onedoor.cching I’d want to do less.When I’d told her I wanted to be a writer instead, she’d all but disowned me. She had no respect for such careers and was determined to convince me that it was foolhardy and that I could never make a living at it.It had been a year since I’d so much as talked to my mother but certain.....
Not so unusual
Surveying the table, Resa looks at me with an piercing stare.”Are you sure about this? I really think it would be better if you went out for this,” she argued once again. “And you know my little house can’t have many people in it, Alex.” Resa huffed.I snorted. “How can five people, you and me included, count as ’many people’? Look at the - they’ve got six children in the house and their two grandparents, and their home is only a little larger! Plus, it’s the middle of winter, Resa...” I countered.Now it was her turn to laugh. “A little?” She laughed, turning the tension in the room into an che...
Traction
I stare at the hardened molded plastic and metal glad I cannot see the wires inside that make the treadmill smarter than me. Its lights recognize me and encourage me to step onto the deck and take the belt for a spin. It can’t talk, but if it could it would want to know what the hell happened to my visits.“Thought the couch kidnapped you.”“You look thicker and sad.”The treadmill would be right on all accounts and more. I haven’t been to the gym since my daughter was born. She is three. I haven’t been to the gym since his affair. Found her panties in his pocket. I haven’t been to the gym since ...