Fangsy_Oblivious_The Heart of Avalon_The New York Window
Catalog Guide:
Fangsy
The box clanked ominously when Kai set it down on the kitchen floor.“Careful,” Roan called from the other room. Kai rolled his eyes.“I heard that.”Kai stomped through the living room, passing Roan bent over a tangled pile of cords.“Stop listening to my eyeballs and get back to work, fangsy.”Roan threw him a rude gesture and Kai smiled, heading out to the car for another box.Across the street, one of their new neighbors waved. Waving back, Kai took a quick sniff. Flour, butter, sugar—she must’ve been baking. Faint floral perfume underneath. A hint of sweat from the sun beaming down at them bo...
Oblivious
I know he is mocking me. I feel it in my bones. This overwhelming sensation of humiliation and embarrassment that takes its stride when you bear witness to it happening. It unfolds in front of you like a sealed letter from an envelope. You can't help but glance around in haste hoping that nothing is out and it is all still concealed. He hates me. I just know it.I simply refused to dance with him because I can not contain my feelings very well. I struggle to hide them when I see him, especially when his bright brown eyes linger more than they should. When his attention is suddenly caught by som...
The Heart of Avalon
I can’t thank my Dad enough fowww.onedoor.ccr raising me in Avalon. It’s one of the greatest places in California, and I’d argue, in America. It’s small, quaint, and everyone knows everyone. Your business is his business is Avalon’s business, and we all breathe as one, and you feel it as soon as you set foot here. You’re not one person in Avalon, you are a piece of here. We are the heart, pumping and working to keep it alive. The people here are one. That’s why I know that on my eighteenth birthday, when I got the letter addressed to me from Joan Young, we all held our breaths. -----------------------------...
The New York Window
Mamma throws open the window, blasting hot air into our apartment. She twists the knob on the radio, and Italian music threads its way onto the gray streets of New York. Abruptly losing all self-control, she breaks into a dance. Hips swaying, fingers snapping, lips humming. Her mouth forms the unfamiliar lyrics like she has heard the song all her life. Wrapping an apron around herself, she bounces over to the kitchen, inhaling sweet fruit and salty nuts. The oven opens, and I spy my favorite dessert on a rusted metal tray. Delicately sliding it out, Mamma whirls around and shoves it in my dir...