Mae goals._Always_How it Crumbles_A Killer Secret
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Mae goals.
Therapy meeting #3 conclusion:“Write 10 resolutions for the year” . That’s what Jaina, my therapist told me at our monthly session yesterday. I’ve been going to her since….well, since…. Anyways, yesterday we were talking about our goals (like I have any) and she said that New Year’s would be the perfect time to write out some resolutions for the year and see if I can stick to them…... So here I am, on my bed, as usual. I have my torn-out paper from my broken little notebook-Mae gave it to me for my birthday last year, it’s all messy, but I can’t get rid of it, and my pencil from when I was 5 t...
Always
"Jesus Christ, are you blind?! Can’t you see there are people around? Besides, why would you need a trolley just for…""Claire?""Lynda? Lynda, is that you? Oh my God, I haven’t recognized you with this… this new haircut.""Thanks. Do you like it? I’m sorry, m``am... I’m sorry I bumped into you, Claire. I’ve always been absent-minded. You know that.""I sure do. So how’s life? How’s everything?" "Oh yeah, I’m grand, all is grand. Jack and I – do you remember my Jack?""Yeah, I think so. Was it that chap that you were dating in college?""No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I met Jack in the universit...
How it Crumbles
The quiet winter storm reminded Pamela Thornton that nothing screams like silence.She stood at attention before a tall window in the conference room at the law offices of Weimar & Dollop. Outside the falling snow looked a pale gray, almost ashen, except for a few flurrying white cones beneath the arcs of the parking lot lamps. She smiled softly to herself. The whole lot was covered in a few inches of snow, and every vehicle looked just about the same, with their dull panels of gray metal. Her bug, meanwhile, stood out like a light in itself, coated in freshly buffed lime green. For all that, i...
A Killer Secret
On the side of the tracks that no one bothers to wanderwww.onedoor.cc except the homeless and the hopeless, JP and I sat quietly behind the burnt-out shell of an old Firebird. Were things ‘business as usual’, we would be halfway through a case of Coors right now, plotting our next longshot plan for fortune and fame. The past week had changed all of that. For a fleeting moment earlier in the morning, I’d completely forgotten about the murders that had rocked our block. I woke up happy as a lark, fished out some clean-ish clothes out of the small pile next to my bed and quickly dressed before heading out to m...