Past Those Feelings_A letter on time capsule_Death Prefers Chamomile_A Good Devil's Food Cake
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Past Those Feelings
“I got a call from my friend Mike a few days ago, asking me if I’ve checked Facebook. I haven't used Facebook in years, but apparently our high school reunion was coming up.” I paused my explanation to see if the officer listening was okay with how I had started.He nodded his head with a grimace, allowing me to continue. “I thought the whole idea seemed ridiculous, but as I was listening to Mike trying to convince me it’d be fun, I actually saw someone from high school. Now you have to understand, I had spent the last 15 years thinking about what I’d do the moment I saw this guy, so it just se...
A letter on time capsule
Busy take caring of her child and home as a house wife Sharon is now 38 years old. Looking her now and before its really different never knew the Sharon at 28 years old and the Sharon now at 38 years old lookswww.onedoor.cc a vast difference ever since her best friend Nina died due to cancer. Ever since her best friend died from cancer she hated her and tried to get rid of all her memories. She left her hometown and she is all alone in this town where no one is her friend. Now she only live for her family. Her life was as usual taking caring of her child Norm and her husband Henry but one day, Norm started ...
Death Prefers Chamomile
Death sits calmly across the table from you, fingers neatly steepled, a cup of tea at one elbow. You are in a small, brightly lit room with only one door and you can’t remember how you arrived. It is just the two of you seated in high backed office chairs; the kind with wheels and good back support. Death is waiting politely for you to speak. You look at the tea and try to gather your thoughts. It smells herbal. The meeting has been going on a while. “How can I know for sure?” you try again.“You can’t. That’s part of the game,” Death replies.“And it can be anything?”“Yes. Any bet you think you...
A Good Devil's Food Cake
“Look, Mariah--” I stuttered, then stopped. “What?” Her lips smacked open and shut, revealing a radioactive green lump of chewing gum. “Nothing. I… I’ll tell you later,” I sucked in a deep breath as the air clawed its way into my lungs. I turned back to my outdated, discolored monitor and resumed typing a financial report. Across the room, I could hear Glen arguing with the manager about something petty -- most likely the type of cake that would be unceremoniously served at the next office party. “For the last time, we deserve a good devil’s food cake!” Glen said. I could barely discern the ...