The Magical Solution_SPRING FORWARD - A Bit More Than Expected_Take Me Back To Dad_A Decade Late for
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The Magical Solution
The Magical Solution "Late again," Kate Moore growled as Maria Connor, a 55 year-old single woman rushed to her desk. “You're late again, Maria." “There was a traffic accident and…" “No excuses. Leave earlier,” she demanded. "I was only a few minutes late," she said sounding as though she was on the verge of tears. "You're always late. Minutes add up. We don’t pay you to be late,” she said angrily. You're a liability. I don't know why management tolerates you. If I had my way, you'd be gone," she growled and rushed off.” Maria lookedwww.onedoor.cc at her shaking hands. "She's making me a nervous wreck,...
SPRING FORWARD - A Bit More Than Expected
ONE It was an hour before my enforced bedtime. My mother and future mother in-law had overtaken my house insisting my last single evening be as comfortable as possible—translation. Absolute hell. I was to marry the handsome Robert at a lavish spring wedding tomorrow, all sounded wonderful. Like a spring lamb to the slaughter. Not everything is as it seems—the mothers were here to ensure I showed up at the church. “An early night would be good for you Emelia, you have to be up at the crack of dawn dear, so you can beautify yourself.” My future mother-in-...
Take Me Back To Dad
Flashing lights flew past my eyes, loud squealing metal monitors surrounding my massive bed and small body. Curious whispers from one person to another flowed across to what seemed like a hospital room. "Where am I?", I question a Doctor. "You're in a hospital sir", she replies. "I don't ever recall getting myself into any setback, you must be mistaken. Now, I'll ask you again, where am I?", I clarify and ask. "Nevin Steven Dougball, perhaps you misheard me. I am Doctor Lee, you have woken up from a coma that you have been in for 30 years. You are 47 years old and have been unresponsive for e...
A Decade Late for Work
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.Alarm blaring. Shit. Blanket: Thrown. Lights: On. Closet: Disaster. Pants: Clean (hopefully). Shirt: No, not that color. Yes, that one. Socks: Black and purple because who cares if no one can see them? Hair: Ugh, it’s a mess. “Great, I love that I look like a witch!” she sighed and tried to comb her wild black locks of hair into something more tame and appropriate for the workplace. “Today we rock a homeless look.” She winked at herself in the mirror. Being late to work was a common occurrence for Janis. But as typical as the routine was, it was always marked with as much pan...