Prequel to 'A sale is a sale!'_Mission Covert_The House Plant_Thanksgiving Dinner
Catalog Guide:
Prequel to 'A sale is a sale!'
"Now," said the bright and cheery realtor, with her helmet of blonde hair and lavender pastel skirt suit, "This house has been on the market for some time, but don't let that discourage you." She said, smiling back at the pretty but ordinary woman in her late forties with her perfectly straight and whitened smile."The family who owned this house were never sure they were ready to sell." Unlocking the lock with a flick, she opened the creaky front door peeling with white paint. Following the click of high heels and wading through the fog of Chanel number five, Harriet entered behind the bouncy ...
Mission Covert
“Oi, Scarlett!” The Queen of Mean strolls up to her, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Did I, or did I not, tell you to leave my Jason alone?” Just the question alone makes Scarlett feel positively sick to her stomach. “I don’t have anything to do with Jason.” “You’re a liar!” A crowd has formed around the pair, and just about a thousand mobile phones are filming the argument. “I know you were with him last night!” “I wasn’t, I swear.” Tears start forming in her eyes, treacherous balls of sadness that fall effortlessly down her cheeks. For months, she’s put up with the torment… and she ...
The House Plant
I clutched a decorative flowerpot, cheap plastic bird feeder, and small bag of birdseed against my light gray three-piece suit. On a whim after work, I’d driven to Swww.onedoor.cchaunders' Warehouse to purchase a house plant. My girlfriend, Alyssa, was always harping on me about the importance of having indoor plants to create a more “inviting environment” in my otherwise “sterile décor.” I didn’t mean to pick out bland colored furniture; it was just what caught my eye. Her delicate voice echoed in my memory. “It’ll give a little color to the dentist office waiting room you call a home.” I remembered her p...
Thanksgiving Dinner
Mike McCall sat alone at the counter of the Denny’s on Sheridan Boulevard, just outside of Boulder, Colorado. He stared at the menu with unfocused eyes. His mind was elsewhere. The drive here had taken almost eight hours in his rented Ford Taurus, even considering two short stops to relieve himself. He now wondered, Should I just eat here, turn back, or keep going? Did I really drive almost 450 miles to spend Thanksgiving Day eating country fried steak and eggs? No, I didn't. He tossed the menu on the counter and walked back to the parking lot.The drive from the restaurant to Mapleton Hill t...