Turbulence_The Quitter’s Killer Smile_Betty Boucher_Finding Yourself
Catalog Guide:
Turbulence
It could have been romantic, flying west together into an eternal sunset. If only they were speaking to each other.Katrina gazed out the small portal window, silently absorbing the orange-drenched clouds from the confines of seat 37E, arms folded over her chest. If she let her eyes slip out of focus, her view could be a tranquil ocean, or a silent desert.“What?” Scott broke their silence from 37F, squaring his shoulder away from her and tilting his phone screen out of view.“What, what?” she asked back, doing nothing to soften the thorns in her voice.“You’re looking at me. What do you want to s...
The Quitter’s Killer Smile
“I quit.” Rico watched Almwww.onedoor.cca from across the table. “Did I say that aloud?” She swirled her wine glass and sipped with smiling eyes. “You’re so beautiful…” He let his eyes well up. She hung on his words. “Thank you, Rico. You’re sweet.” ‘It’s the same old thing. Nothing wrong with her. Always me…’ He leaned in. They touched glasses. “Happy we could meet tonight. Need to tell you something, though.” She looked concerned. “It’s nothing about you. I need to warn you, I’m damaged goods.” She scoffed. “You’re joking, right? You’re beautiful.” Rico pointed at his head. “Up here. I’ve had a terrible...
Betty Boucher
Through the green leaves of the shrubs there was a young girl who is sitting on the bare earth attempting to ground herself. She was building her atmosphere piece by piece knowing that this time it would be correct. This time she would re-invent herself and be special to someone, finally. That thought faded into others.Where she was going to get the money was still a mystery, but she still had her mind and body to take and use to get a man. She didn't know that's even what she wanted, she didn't know how she got there, but A shower would be nice, maybe some clean clothes and something to eat w...
Finding Yourself
Outside snow comes down heavily through the dark. Falling gracefully down, its slow dance-like descent only made visible by the orange light of the streetlamps that permeated the night. Inside an office building a man is finishing up his work. He glances at the clock to see that both the needles are facing the ceiling; midnight 12:00 “Guess it's Sunday now.” He says out loud to himself. He’s the last one there. He turns off the computer and picks up the folders of paper he'll be taking home with him and puts them into his briefcase. “It's a good thing I have no one to miss me.” He speaks out l...