Young Is As Young Does_What is Love? Baby Don't Hurt Me, Don't Hurt Me, No More_a shot gun a
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Young Is As Young Does
As I sit on the front porch, on a crisp cool autumn day, I'm sipping my nice warm coffee. I start to reflect on years ago. Years of coming of age. I jokingly refer to these memories as my young n dumb moments. Luckily these years were before technology took over our lives. As they are today, with pictures and video on a constant loop. These times in my mind start with a bunch of neighborhood kids being outside. Riding their bikes. Riding skateboards on a home made skateboard ramp. A big boombox with 80s rock blaring. These were good times. Having sleepovers, watching scary movies. Bad, big hai...
What is Love? Baby Don't Hurt Me, Don't Hurt Me, No More
I get the call at seven pm, driving home from work. I pick it up on speaker, watching the gas stations clip by as the sun slowly sinks towards the top of the trees.“There’s a new girl at your brother’s apartment. Or at least, what used to be his apartment. We haven’t seen him since the weed incident last October.” The voice is detached. Liza was always very factual, very precise. I grip the steering wheel. “Come home, Maeve. Pull him out of his shell. And find out about this new girlfriend.”I really don't want to go. There are about a million things I would do before visiting my halfway nonexi...
a shot gun and an apple tree
His dark brown eyes looking into my soul as his soft lips brushed against mine. I looked up, as he stood over the top of me, he told me “I love you”... Love? Did he love me? Or did he love the features and curves of my body? Did he love the thought of showing me off or did he love the inside of me that cannot be touched? I looked at him and replied “I love you too” knowing I wasn’t sure if it was a truth or a short response to break the awkward silence. As I got into the passenger seat of my sister’s car those words couldn’t leave my head. As soon as I got home he texted me “meet me in the orc...
Late August
“Listen,” August said.Etta sighed, put down the shot glass she was drying, and stared at August from across the bar.August had been working on the song all morning; Etta had heard it a dozen times already. August played the tune again, the jangling of the saloon piano echoing througwww.onedoor.cch the empty room.“What do you think? Will the men like it?”“As much as they’ll pay attention to it, August, sure.”It was not the response August was looking for. August had arrived in Independence, Missouri in the spring of 1835, planning on making his way farther west. He had dreams, he had aspirations. Join up wit...