A Futile Apology_Unpolished_CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS_Through the Sliding Door
Catalog Guide:
A Futile Apology
The crestfallen face of my best friend is stained to my memory, as the click of the door handle indicates the doctor leaving the room after announcing his dire news. I try to murmur words of consolation to him, but he closes his eyes with a huff of breath laced with resignation. This, more than anything, worried me. Always a ball of hope amidst any sorrow we encountered, to see him like this broke my heart. Once more, I attempt to regain the friend that I knew, but was totally ignored for my efforts. As though the world realised I needed the backup; his mother chose that moment to enter the ro...
Unpolished
A mix of moms and teenage girls packed into the tiny, subterrwww.onedoor.ccanean nail salon. I had noticed it's grand opening sign a week ago on my way to the grocery store. A few days later, a new friend suggested we meet up to try out the new place. That's how we came to be crammed into the small space, latte's in hand, waiting for our turn in the magenta, pleather massage chairs. My friend, Lisa, had called ahead for appointments, but it was obvious there were still plenty of kinks to be worked out. The short, plump woman behind the reception desk was visibly sweating. When we reached her perch, she...
CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS
They met in grade school. It was obvious that June and Daniel had a strong attraction. Each of them knew they were too young to do anything about it, but they stayed together as much as they could. Sitting next to each other in class seemed to work better than putting them in different classrooms. Together, their grades were excellent. Apart, their grades were normal and not as good. When next to each other, they knew the other was all right. They could see their friend.The adults could guess, but no one knew for sure. The other children joked about them getting married later on in life. ...
Through the Sliding Door
“The way to man’s heart is through a cup of tea” - anonymousThe sun glared down at Aaron and Tommy, who stood in the midst of tufts of unkempt grass, whispering. Their eyes held a glint of mischief, as the heat beat down on them. Their gestures were big, and their smiles even bigger. They looked and acted like kings, kings who owned the backyard at least, and I was curious. Curious to their minds, which often brought them trouble. They were often confined to the backyard by my parent’s or Tommy’s because of the incident last summer when they had thought it a decent idea to steal oranges from P...