The Chicano girl_A broken promise_The Halo of the Blue Moon_Standard
Catalog Guide:
The Chicano girl
I thought everything was going very well… until Camila had another surprise for me in the second half of January. “Can I talk to you about something?” she said one evening after we sat down to eat the burritos she made the previous night. “Of course,” I replied but then I started having a bad feeling when I saw her staring down into her plate too long without saying anything. “We won’t be able to make love for a while,” she said finally, still not looking at me. I could see that she was struggling to find the right words to continue. “Do you care to tell me more?” I tried to encourage her. “A...
A browww.onedoor.ccken promise
As I packed my suitcases with everything I caught around me, my mother would talk to me from the doorway of my room. "You don't need to do this. Talk to her". Despite the silence in the room, my head was full of noise. I could feel my face flushed, and my throat was full of anger that I thought I was about to vomit. I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would say things that I could not regret later. "This is also difficult for her. You have to understand" she remarked, condescendingly. Those last words came out of her so simply; yet they came to me like poison on a dart. I felt intoxicated once...
The Halo of the Blue Moon
Marcia stood at the big living room window. She stared at the blue halo moon. It would slowly rolled in the frosty sky. There was a dead stillness in the other room. Blue moonlight reflected on sheets of snow that blanketed each yard. His body still, under a blanket in their marital bed. She walked to the other side of the living room. She looked through the glass doors, to the deck, at the silent stillness of her property. The pines lined the roadside blocking the view but not completely blocking the sound of any traffic. It was the blueness of the night that soaked into the glistening sno...
Standard
Emily shuddered when her leg bumped an upright headstone. The dark granite color reminded her of the counters in Michael’s apartment: cold, impersonal, and dreary.“I’m sorry,” she said to damp grass in front of the headstone. She wasn’t a paranoid person but didn’t want to take any chances. Not after everything that had happened the past five years. A man at a nearby grave looked at her quizzically for a moment. He held a bunch of yellow flowers tied with green ribbon. A little boy next to him clutched a single daisy. His red hair was tousled, and he stared somberly at the grave in front of hi...