Repentance_An ASSESSMENT of TIME_A Stellar Journey_Shipwrecked
Catalog Guide:
Repentance
“I can see it now,” said old Mrs. Jones. “He’s going to do it again. He’s not sorry. He’s just sorry he got caught.”Sandra and Dave looked round at the television to see what she was talking about. Mrs. Jones was very hard of hearing and the news program was blaring. A pudgy, balding man in an expensive suit and flashy tie was looking contritely at the camera, saying something about asking repentance from the Lord. He was holding the hand of his very pregnant wife who was staring at the ground, her face blank.“Brothers and Sisters, I have failed you at this time. The Devil tempted me, and I wa...
An ASSESSMENT of TIME
AN ASSESSMENT OF TIME “We are running out of time Jed.’ “No Marcia, we are not. The Bank does not open until ten am. The Manager does not arrive until ten fifteen. By then we are fully set up waiting for him to open the main safe so we can make our withdrawal. It has to be the main safe. The smaller one the head teller opens does not have enough cash. I explained all of this in detail before we got here.”“I know. What happens if he is late? We could run out of time.”“What is this fixation you have with time? Do you realise just how often you use the word? No, you don’t do you. Time after tim...
A Stellar Journey
Eddie sat with his elbow on the bar, scrolling through social media, not bothered by the sun shining into his eyes. Breakfast was going to be served for another four hours before lunch-time. Apart from the workers from the nearby construction site who were coming every morning, he did not have many customers."I hope you liked the eggs, gentlemen," said the waitress.“Thanks, Pattie. They were great.” said www.onedoor.ccone of them."And as usual, coffee, for you, is on the house," she smiled.Pattie was a nearly forty-year-old woman, tall and thin, with blond hair kept in a ponytail, green eyes, and a tattoo o...
Shipwrecked
When the shabby elevator’s doors closed, Mike forgot how to be normal, and as he noticed the whine of the machine’s old parts, he saw his Tinder date grip her clutch closer to her body. It was not the look he had hoped to cultivate. He wanted to face her - he thought it would make things more comfortable - but he didn’t dare. Instead, he stood at her side like a New York bell hop until, through no action of his own, his arms swung back and forth automatically like a desktop drinking bird. Things were not working out for him, and even after he stopped moving his arms, he regretted that he’d don...