In These Moments, We: Walk Here_DO YOU REMEMBER?_Daddy's Disease_The Woman Who Never Wore Slippe
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In These Moments, We: Walk Here
The light belonged to those who could return to their happiness. Huin nodded at this new fact as she slid between the buildings. The cement felt cool under her feet, and the shadows of the apartments and the office complex together kept the sun away. Or maybe the sun didn’t want to shine here. Well, it wasn’t Huin’s business as to where the sun wanted to shine. Taking the next right, she really ought to have been focused on her next hit, but her mind strayed back to that woman she saw on the sidewalk. At her ears, small versions of lemonade glasses glistened, and her neck and fingers blinded H...
DO YOU REMEMBER?
****TW: Scenes of terminal illness****“Are you there God? It’s me, Olivia. Please give me strength, my Mum is dying!” I shout into the windy Autumn day.My girlfriend Brie and I are outside Wellington hospital, watching as twilight breaks across the sky, in magenta, orange and gold. She wraps me in one of her infamous cuddles – my safe place.“Olivia,” she gently pushes me away, looking me in the eyes. “Honey, we knew this day www.onedoor.ccwould come.”“I know,” I reply, “but it doesn’t make it any easier. It is happening too fast.”After receiving some much-needed fresh air, we make our way back inside the ho...
Daddy's Disease
Cara twirled the silver spoon through the dark red juices and watched beans swirling around in the bowl. It was tradition, Momma made chili the last night of every year, but Cara wasn't the slightest bit hungry. She glanced at the clock above the oven, it was eight in the evening and the chair at the head of the table was still empty since Daddy wasn’t home. Cara nibbled at a cracker and wondered if Daddy was sick again.It was New Year’s Eve and Daddy said he’d be home with fireworks. He promised they wouldn’t be those sticks that sparkled, or the firecrackers purchased from the corner store. ...
The Woman Who Never Wore Slippers
She never wears slippers, not anymore anyway. Not since her time in the mental institution. The sound of feet in slippers shuffling along the cool tile outside the hospital room triggers her. "Shut that door!" she screams. I obey. I want to tell her, in fact I came to tell her. I toss my coffee cup in the trash and walk back to sit beside her and cross my arms. “So what did the doctor say?” I ask in a flat tone. Besides the frown lines that had been permanently etched into the corners of her mouth, she looked the exact same since I last saw her. Watchful stone gray eyes, frazzled ashy hair and...