We Aren't Doing Anything_How far can the Imagination take us_Bad luck_Destination Unknown
Catalog Guide:
We Aren't Doing Anything
“We aren’t doing anything for our anniversary.” Steven’s wife straightened out the bottom of her dress, giving her outfit another look in the mirror. Steven still sat in bed, bleary eyes watching Laura give her hair a scrunch with her hands.“But we could,” he said, though he already knew she would shoot him down again. “We could do something simple. Like a picnic, or we could watch a movie. I could even make you dinner.”Laura shook her head as she put on her shoes. “I don’t know why you’re being so determined about this. I don’t want to do anything. Money is already tight as it is, and we can’...
How far can the Imagination take us
Some implied violence and theme within.A wave of darkness settles over the room as the light fades from the explosive final scenes, slowly hiding the plush high backed grey cloth seats, and midnight blue carpeted walls. As the heavy deep red theatre curtains prepare to close, white text begins to scroll up the blackened screen. The small glimmering aisle lights showing where to step, flicker into life. With thoughts lingering on the movie he leans over and slowly caresses her cheek with the back of his hand, then follows her jawline to begin slowly massaging her ears with experienced movements...
Bad luck
Tessa walked down the street with her arms full of grocery bags. Normally she and her boyfriend, Brandon, would drive down to thewww.onedoor.cc market for their weekly shopping trips but she had decided to walk today. Brandon had gone out to have lunch with his mother and he had taken the car that they shared. Luckily for her, the market was only a ten minute walk away. As Tessa walked, she looked up at the sky. The sun was out, but the sky seemed just a tad colorless. There were a couple of clouds that looked dark. “I hope it doesn’t rain soon.” She muttered as she continued to stare upwards. When she fina...
Destination Unknown
“Please don’t do it.”Meagan whispered the words, but as she was alone behind the wheel of her parked, twelve-year-old station wagon, no one else would hear even if she had shouted. The low car felt like it was crouching behind the hedge as she watched her husband standing on the deck of their town’s best hotel, a modern monstrosity that perched on the lake’s edge, its outside adorned with colorful wooden chairs, bulbous glass lanterns and railings made of white ropes as thick as a man’s wrist. It was a woeful mismatch for the rest of the main street, which was a worn-out thoroughfare lined ...