Brie-liant_Fish and Chips_Jenny on the Run_Persuasion
Catalog Guide:
Brie-liant
“Gouda?! Are you insane?”“Are you? It’s perfect. It’s rich; it’s nutty. It melts in the mouth, literally and figuratively. I cannot with you right now. You’re a peasant for not liking gouda in your grilled cheese.”I sat back on the couch with a small smirk on my face, enjoying myself immensely. I had turned off the tv a while ago to better focus on the show before me as Gavin and Jesse threw airy fists about who made the best grilled cheese sandwich. It was a delightfully gloomy day in May, filled with thunderstorms, and we were cozily stuck inside. I had, had the brilliant idea of adding to t...
Fish and Chips
Fish and ChipsMy life took a U turn at the tender age of www.onedoor.ccsix. A memory of alarm, followed by change. Punctuated by crispy battered deep fried fish. I know my early years were comfortable, but I recall a sense of claustrophobia. I was smothered in love. My every need was met, every desire catered for. Momma was my world, and I was hers. I was too young then to see what I can from an adult perspective. I did not run freely with the other kids in the park, or go on playdates. We never had visitors, we never visited any other friends or family. Every second weekend I got to go to Dad’s, and he w...
Jenny on the Run
Jenny on the Run It was a bitterly cold night, with biting frost and a mist hovering over Dublin’s Grand Canal. The Garda (police) patrol car cruised slowly up one side of the canal and down the other with two officers inside, one older, one younger. They crossed over the bridge onto Percy Place and as the car drove along the georgian terrace the outline of the car was reflected in the glittering water. A solitary figure stood outlined against the light on the top floor of one of the houses watching the scene. The car stopped at the end of the row and then came round again. Clearly on the look...
Persuasion
“Please don’t do that,” Isabella is standing behind me trying to grab her phone out of my outstretched hand as my thumb hovers over the blue “Disable Account” button in her favorite social media app. I feel Isabella’s breath on the back of my neck as she reaches her left arm underneath and I clamp my arm down, thwarting her attempt. She swings her other arm around the outside of my body, and I drop the phone down low, out of her reach. I turn to face her and say to my best friend since college, “Bella, stop and take a look at yourself right now. You’re legit freaking out.” She throws both of h...