A Promise to Future Me_Good Business_Someone has to..._Blood Stains
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A Promise to Future Me
I wake up in the middle of the night, my body jerking upright. I just remembered something. And I know that I cannot get back to sleep without handling it. I ignore the fact that Benjamin is not in bed, even though it stings, more than the cold tonight. I walk over to my desk, shivering due to the cold, pulling on my sweater tighter. Turning on the lamp, I flip feverishly through the pages of my journal, the smell of ink as familiar as the back of my hand. I land on the page I’m looking for, the list of goals I had written down carefully exactly a year ago, right as the hour hand of the clock ...
Good Business
She changed her hair. The past two years, she had honey blonde locks that curled just beneath her shoulders. This year, it was black. It barely covered her jawline. Her rosy cheeks had been muted by the dark strands of hair that framed her face. It was sad.I know she saw me enter the room early. Embarrassingly early. I had started drinking at five, much earlier than I arrived at the club, which is doubly embarrassing.She smiled when she saw me, but she continued to dance with her friends, knowingly in the eyeline of every man that stood around her. I can’t believe she changed her hair. The bl...
Someone has to...
This story includes suicide, mental health, controversial theoryThe door is dark stained, three-panel Walnut. Kind of fancy for an office door, I think. The gold letters at eye level say Dr. Elizabeth Lewisky, M.D. My captain ordered me to come down here and have a session after the events of the last few months. A woman opens the door. She looks to be in her mid-forties, attractive, probably more so a few years ago, very studious-looking with her brown hair pulled back into a bun, reading glasses hanging by a gold chain around her neck. She has on a brown checkered business suit and holds a t...
Blood Stains
The stain on my ceiling looked like a dead dog. It was an ugly mottled brown, like it had rabies. I felt bad for the poor thing. If I tried hard, I could convince myself that it resembled somethiwww.onedoor.ccng different, but tonight I was stuck lying on my back staring at the broken legs, the oddly shaped body, and the head that went the wrong way.It was almost 2 a.m.; my mother would be asleep and my sister would be pretending to be. Whatever bed my father was lying in, I hoped he was more miserable than me. Sleep evaded me for the past two hours, leaving my legs restless and my mind seeing dead animals....