If/Then_Shear Envy_Farewell to Adelaine_Why Did You Leave Me?
Catalog Guide:
If/Then
Captain Huxley wipes the sweat from his brow with the blue kerchief he wears around his neck. He rolls out his wrist before grabbing hold of the wire cutters once more. He examines the nest of wiring in the sedan-sized spaceship engine with a frown, his dark brown curls falling into his eyes, despite the engine grease weighing down his locks. “Okay, ALAN. I’ve got green to yellow, red to red. What’s up next?”The ship’s Assisted Light-speed Astronautics Navigation System - dubbed ALAN by Huxley - responds in a British accent more suitable to audiobooks than to a spaceship. “If the warning ligh...
Shear Envy
*contains some mildly offensive language*Alex got to the woolshed while it was still dark. Her father and brothers had gone out even earlier, to be ready to begin the muster as soon as there was light for the ewes to see. It was her job to fill the indoor pens ready for the shearers to start, and they would be arriving by six in order to cut out the whole mob by the end of the day.The covered yards were already filled with the small mob they had brought in last night. Alex could hear the occasional barking cough but there was no other sound from the sheep. The mournful ru-ru cry of a native ow...
Farewell to Adelaine
Adelaine finished the draft of the text and pressed www.onedoor.ccsave, rolling her eyes and drawing in a breath. Looking around from the safety of a Lexus, the parking garage felt empty. It was early. That didn't stop the tension from surfacing. Rereading the unsent text, she pressed the button to turn off the screen and plucked the goggle-eyed shades from the visor and pulled the earpieces out with a lip still soft from a hot shower, and slid the sunglasses on to hide her face.Pulling a hood over her still-damp hair, the car chirped as the door clunked. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and walked to t...
Why Did You Leave Me?
*Trigger Warning: Substance Abuse, Mentions Suicide/Self Harm I’ve driven this same route more times than I can count, but somehow this time I almost pass the last major turn. Damnit! I silently curse. At the last minute, I look over my shoulder and swerve to change lanes. I glance down at my phone hoping to see your name flash across it with a new message. No such luck. Why won’t he answer? The wheels of my silver “toaster,” as you call it, skid to a harsh stop at the suddenly red light. Taylor Swift blasts from my speakers. It’s a muggy Tennessee spring day, but when I close my eyes and exha...