Pumpkin Coffee at Madame Toffee's_A Fatal Delay_Confidence_The Ten Contracts
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Pumpkin Coffee at Madame Toffee's
New pumpkin flavors through October, the sign outside read. Next to an image of a woman in a witchy Hwww.onedoor.ccalloween costume sipping a latte out of a tiny orange pumpkin. The little shop- decorated with autumnal squalor year-round- had a line of patrons out the door and down the sidewalk to try the new flavor while Madame Toffee tended to customers with a handful of employees.The older woman wore her usual attire of some gypsy-pagan cross with rings and necklaces displaying different old-religion symbols. I was more a fan of tea brewed by myself than coffee from a shop so I wasn’t a usual customer o...
A Fatal Delay
Jake and I were moseying around the mall, as broke teenagers tend to do when their moms are off shopping. I hate shopping. After going to GameStop and playing the demo versions of the latest PlayStation games, we realized that we were hungry. So, we hit the food court multiple times, with each of us making a round asking for two samples (for a friend) from nearly every option: Mexican, pizza, Japanese, submarine sandwiches, and the local Chinese joint that would always have two or three different samples to try in the first place. Jack went first, brought back my half of the samples - well ...
Confidence
Confidence ~ By: Mahita Ghattu I’d always wished someone believed in me. It was always my friends or my family making fun of me. Sometimes I feel like I’m lonely. I just wish that someone would support me. “Sorry coming through,” A boy said, pushing me to the side. I got shoved into another person, and they got shoved, and then another, and another. This was the most crowded train in all of America. We all fell neatly like dominos. And this happened again and again till everyone was off the train. I walked out of the train sighing. My parents were sitting on a bench, smiling and talking to so...
The Ten Contracts
Trigger warning: Substance abuse, mental health, violence***She signed her name on the line for the fourth year in a row.Of course, in red ink.“Mom, you’re not supposed to write your name in red ink, remember?”After a long sigh, she swiveled my direction to ask if I really believed in such superstitious nonsense. For a woman who was paranoid out of her mind when it came to most things, she appeared unfazed by the cultural taboo she had just committed.“Well, I don’t want you to die…You should write in black ink instead,” I whisper under my breath.It’s a Korean superstition that if you write you...