Kintsugi_The Karma of Paris_You, Me & a Man Named Bill_The "Welcome to Puberty" Pr
Catalog Guide:
Kintsugi
It was going to be a good day. It had to.Lily knew the perfect way to start the day: cinnamon sugar doughnuts and coffee. When she got to the cafe, though, the barista was locking the doors.“Are you closed already?” she asked.The barista shook his head. “Something with the plumbing. They have to shut off the water.”“Oh…” she trailed off.She checked her watch. Is there another cafe nearby? Or a bakery? There’s a place on Randolph Street - no, that’s a Starbucks…they don’t have the right doughnuts. Do I have time to look?She shook her head. No, I’ll be late for work. She turned around and headed...
The Karma of Paris
Esmeralda hurried her steps as the chimes from Notre Dame rang out. Late, again! The stone bridge, Pont Neuf, created a beautiful backdrop to her city of love. She waved both her arms spotting the one man in the world who held her attention captive every day. “Hey, Beautiful! You’re late,” Adam called out from the center of the bridge. “Surely, that doesn’t surprise you,” Esmeralda quipped. “No, but you owe me a twirl.” It was thwww.onedoor.cceir way. Whenever she caused his ire to rise, he made her twirl, so she would unwind the behavior. Undoing karma they called it. Esmeralda twirled. The skirt flared ex...
You, Me & a Man Named Bill
The Police called to tell me what had just happened to you. My phone clattered to the pavement as I sank to my knees, the humdrum sounds of the busy street fading into oblivion. A foggy greyness hovering at the outside edges of my vision grew darker and thicker, and then there was only blackness! And silence!“Stand back, give her some room!”“Should we call an ambulance?”“Here! Lay her head on this,”“Shouldn’t you loosen her scarf? She might choke.”The jumble of voices sounded tinny and faraway as I swam back to consciousness. Struggling to open my eyes, I found myself lying in the standar...
The "Welcome to Puberty" Present
Dear Diary, Why do they call you “diary?” What does that word even mean? When my dad gave you to me for my 12th birthday as a “welcome to puberty” gift (wtf?!), I didn’t know what to do with you. I’ve never had a diary before. When Amal showed me her pink fuzzy diary with the heart-shaped golden lock on it, I told her it was a stupid girl thing and I didn’t want to be a stupid girl. She cried afterwards and I felt bad. So, when I got my own “stupid girl” diary, I left you on the reject shelf by the window in my room, between “Girls Who Play Rugby” and “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” I forgot about you...