Six Slices of Toast_Aquarium_A Dreamy Departure_White Palms, Pure Love
Catalog Guide:
Six Slices of Toast
I just landed, www.onedoor.ccmy first flight, my nerves still on the plane, me waiting for redemption, in a box car terminal. I was to be to plucked from the land of sand and pines, and deposited in my new home away from home, by the sea. A year they said, possibly. The “possibly,” never nudged my complacency from its excited state, as I was leaving the place I had spent the previous minutes, days, years of my life, and was finally escaping into the unknown from the nebulous consistency of a past. It left my envy, envious. I was to work with migrant laborers. An attempt to break the addiction the farm lab...
Aquarium
My name suits me. Narin. It means delicate or fragile, which is exactly what I am. My parents, in the few times I’ve spoken to them, insist that the meaning is purely coincidental. But I still wonder if they changed it after the surgery. I don’t remember my life before, so I have no way to tell.It’s been 13 years, to the day. 13 years of living in a glass prison. 13 years of feeling like a fish who is too big for her aquarium. 13 years of doctors with oxygen tanks and masks poking and prodding me, treating me like some formaldehyde-soaked specimen for them to study. To them, I’m nothing but a ...
A Dreamy Departure
Staring intensely at her laptop screen, Maya fingers were tapping continuously at her laptop screen as her back was hunched on her seat, with both her legs crossed. The view outside her window was dark, with only the new moon in the sky. But she doesn't mind the darkness, for she finds it serene and quiet for her to focus on her current task. Typing her report that was due the next day, Maya felt her eyelids heavy as she began to yawn, but resisted her thoughts to lay down on her bed. When she took a sip of her black coffee from her black mug, she heard a faint footstep coming from outside. Ma...
White Palms, Pure Love
Uncle Gerry has white palms like the color of cotton. But his complexion is not pallid. Kids like me have white palms too. I mean, all of us have white palms until adolescence or until we get a crush on some pretty girls. By then our palms would become orange like the tangerine sky of twilight. My parents’ palms have been green like a virgin forest since my birth. They had been white before they got acquainted, turned orange in the first few months of father’s courtship with mother, and then turned red when they got engaged and eventually tied the knot. I ask Uncle Gerry if there was a time w...