The Tight Lipped Taxi Driver_Somethings not right._Who Did This?_It's the mole!
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The Tight Lipped Taxi Driver
TRIGGER WARNING: Blood and gory stuffLATE, LATE, LATE! I was always late. The thing was, I never meant to be late, it just happened. So, when I woke up at 8:45 this morning, I knew that I was in trouble. This was the one day that I couldn't be late. I had yoga every Saturday morning at nine (it's so cliché, but someone said it helps with stress or something…) and my yoga teacher, Strict Old Sally would ban me from classes (very severe, I know!) if I was late again. I mean, I guess I could find another class, but they all cost money and.... Well, really there's no excuse, I just can't be bother...
Somethings not right.
I don't know what's going on. Mama is scared, but she doesn't want to show it. But I can tell. Something isn't right about her laugh, and she's not smiling when she thinks I’m not looking. I hear her talking, at night. Always on the phone, talking in hushed tones. Sometimes, when she is getting even more nervous, her vowww.onedoor.ccice gets louder- almost to a shout. It scares me, when she gets like this. Because I know something is not right.And right now, something is not right. Mama won't tell me anything, she says I’m too young to know, too young to understand. But I understand plenty. I know there's a...
Who Did This?
(Author's note: Depictions of abuse that may not be suitable for all readers.)I see two doors. Same two I'm faced with every morning hours before sunrise. I wish the green and gold uniform reflected how I really feel about my job. But I realized a long time ago there is no job that's free from interaction with the other gender.My gloved hand curls into a fist. One which I often daydream of using for something besides knocking. I have to control myself. I have to look golden, like these ridiculous stripes, eight hours a day, five days a week.Seethe or sigh? These wee hours of the morning, befor...
It's the mole!
The best way for Carlos to calm his nerves is through cooking. Cutting vegetables, measuring spices, and grilling pieces of meat soothe him. He tossed the guajillo, the ancho and chipotle peppers into a saucepan, and after a few minutes of stirring, the mixture perfumed the small room. The installations looked nothing like the super fancy kitchen he had at home, but the hotplate did the trick.He held a cigarillo between his lips, closing his left eye so the smoke wouldn’t sting it. He put the peppers in the blender and added some chicken broth, which he had made himself. Turning to his lieuten...