No More Surprises_For The Perfect Evening_The Butterfly Collector_Life Without The I
Catalog Guide:
No More Surprises
Home was where the comfort was, they said. For Icarus, home was where you were hanging by your wrists in your own bedroom. He should’ve taken his popcorn home and never mind the wandering child. Now he’d lost his groceries and the child. This was why he should shop on Mondays. Mobster one, Goatee, pulled awww.onedoor.cc hefty wooden stick from the closet. “Why you have this then?” Why, Icarus had gotten it from the park nearby. It had nice swirly patterns and a smiley face someone had etched on. Not so nice now, on the about-to-be receiving end. “Oh no, not this again.” The stick could be more enthusiasti...
For The Perfect Evening
It's a momentary lapse of judgment. I concluded that was what made me open the boisterous voice note sent to me just thirty minutes ago. "The gathering is tonight! You had to join us!" I cursed aloud, scrambled to close the voice note. Yet, that is still too late. The other side has known that I had opened the message. Now, what can I do? I did not doubt that they would call me when they realized that fact. It seems that I had to restrain myself from using my phone, at least until the party started. With a resolute nod, I shut my phone down. It's better that way. I would get a much calmer afte...
The Butterfly Collector
I have never been good at taking in the scenery. Others always had to point things out to me. I never spotted the robin on the branch; I never saw the snake in the grass. For me, turtles that looked like rocks were just rocks or turtles. I never could appreciate a world filled with many things, but only inpidual things one at a time. I felt no pang of envy when someone would point out a rabbit in a snowdrift. I did not care. I never understood why others cared. I knew there were rabbits that hid in the snow and rare birds that visited familiar branches, but I knew about them the same way I kn...
Life Without The I
Joe breathed himself into an utter canvas of blackness. Some minuscule dots of red, orange, a purple float here and there. He envisioned his small pet hamster from home. Atticus was his name. A puffy ball of life that could do a lot but choose to eat, run his wheel, and sleep. On the off occasion, he would scramble to bite his way out of his cage, but once in a ball or given a snack he forgot. Atticus had everything he needed and more with the care of Joe.Slowly, surely, Joe felt lighter, happier. Suddenly he was in Atticus's cage playfully being chasing. Joe jumped onto the wheel and ran to ...