Nor'easter Sunday_Cutting Ties_Afra and Gervassi: Timeout_A Different Kind Of Panda
Catalog Guide:
Nor'easter Sunday
Barry opens his eyes and the day greets him with a flow of brisk air making its way up the side of the bed and under the sheets. He sleeps with a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants on but is still cold. He gets out of bed, puts on an additional sweatshirt, and moves toward the window. He peals back the blackout curtains and is shocked by an unexpected site. The sun. It is February in Buffalo, NY and the past week has seen temperatures in the teens and has been quite gloomy. The sun fills him with hope and joy.As Barry completes his morning routine consisting of a short yoga and meditation practiwww.onedoor.cc...
Cutting Ties
“Holy guacamole.” I coughed as a cloud of dust flew up from the cardboard box I was opening. “Could Dad have been any less of a hoarder?” “Well, I’ll not say that he was exactly sensitive of peoples' allergies,” Alex began, trying hard not to let his features bend into a snicker, “but let’s not push our luck, Ky. It’s only his office that we’ve got to go through—Mom and Viv have all the rest.” “Thank God we’re the family’s worst cleaners,” I muttered, folding back the box’s flaps. Alex glanced at me and sighed, leaning back on his heels. He slowly dropped into a sitting position on the floor. ...
Afra and Gervassi: Timeout
Hanna’s lips were thin and pressing, much like the hands that gathered fabric at the small of Gervassi’s back. Hanna’s lips asked questions where Afra’s had always given answers. Gervassi couldn’t say a word. He looked at her hands; they invited him to a life or travel, of whimsy, of tranquil chaos. There was so much potential for the two of them as people, but as he continued to sit there, thinking of Hanna’s lips against his own, he knew there was nothing for them together. “I shouldn’t be here.” Gervassi straightened his shirt and stood up. The daylight peered through the early morning clo...
A Different Kind Of Panda
Abby took a deep breathe as she put the dog cibble, or whatever her crazy aunt had given her, into the bowl. She had dropped it by yesterday on the porch. And it wasn't the fact that the strange substance was wet and slimy, but the smell that irritated her so bad. How was Rocky going to give her kisses now? He couldn't. And she knew that, but didn't really want to believe it. But there was no way that his stinky breath would touch her skin anytime soon. She definitely wasn't worried about him eating it, that little rascal would eat anything...or anyone. "Rocky, come and eat, you little S.O.G!"...