Speedwalk_Dirtbag Magic_The New Language_The Cat and the Vet
Catalog Guide:
Speedwalk
I step out of my apartment, moving at a speedwalk. I try to hurry while locking the door behind me and in doing so fumble with the keys, costing me more time than I'd like. I know my commute like the back of my hand. I know at the rate I'm going, I'll be about one minute late to work. I also know if I drive like a crazy person, I can shorten my commute by about three minutes. I've got to try. It's not that I think anything bad will happen if I walk in a minute late, but I've already been late once this week and I know if it happens again everyone will look at me weird. I reach www.onedoor.ccmy car, ignite t...
Dirtbag Magic
Pulling off the road and onto the empty camping area, she was grateful to have the public land almost to herself. Minutes later, her small, A-frame tent was staked into the ground, marking her territory. A tiny lawn chair sat in between the open trunk of her car and the plot she would call home. Milo, her protector and friend leapt from the passenger seat and took his own steps to mark the territory. Arlie filled his water bowl as he barked in anticipation. Arlie thought about how this was by far her favorite destination yet. The weathered rock formations appeared carefully painted and were a...
The New Language
We called it Yopanko. No real reason why, other than the fact that it was a word we could all pronounce equally. There were no S sounds for Georgie's tongue to mash into lisps. No Rs to trigger Kelvin's Elmer Fudd syndrome. And no Ls to make me self-conscious about my hand-me-down accent, the byproduct of my mother's emigration from Nagoya, Japan to Seattle, Washington. Our speech impediments, our insecurities, our home and school troubles—suddenly none of that seemed to matter.What mattered was that Yopanko was ours, a new language entirely for us. At least, that's what we thought.***We also ...
The Cat and the Vet
Trigger Warning: guns, PTSD, combat-related graphic violence, suicidal ideation, violence against women, alcohol, substance abuseAndrew was just coming home from the VFW like he did every Friday night. At least, every Friday he didn’t have a date. Which was to say: most Fridays. Nobody there was from the old unit. But there were a few Marines there who got it. Not many POGs to contend with—People Other than Grunts. But enough were there that he wanted to stick with Marine riflemen more than he wanted to mix.But as he stepped out of the Uber, the little calico cat jumped up on his front stoop.“...