DORIS_Becca On The Train_Sam Tings Family Restaurant_Playground Mommies
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DORIS
DORIS By Les Clark“Are you tired?” I’d asked Doris a few times during our back and forth.She paused, referring to her notes. “Of course not,” she responded in an unwavering voice she used long ago to corral six kids. “All they talk about here is pills and illness. I’m enjoying this. No, I’m fine.”Doris rested comfortably in a well-padded red brocade chair she’d had one of her kids bring from the home she shared with her husband before he passed years ago. Before her, on a TV tray table of indeterminate age, sat her latest large print novel. On the floor beside her, stacked like a Jenga game, w...
Becca On The Train
As the train starts moving, May looks out the window, her face growing pale.“Are you okay?” Steve asks, concerned, leaning towards her.“I-I think I ate too many strawberries…” she replies weakly, a hand owww.onedoor.ccver her mouth.Bucky closes his eyes, head shaking, unimpressed.Why did she eat so close to boarding?That appetite of hers…“Switch seats with me,” Steve offers, getting up. “You’ll feel better if you’re looking forward.”“Thanks, Stevie,” she manages in a weak voice.Bucky, worried, stares at May beside him, before frowning.“You better not throw up on me,” he mumbles, locking eyes with her.“I’m ...
Sam Tings Family Restaurant
Sam Ting’s Family RestaurantI told my daughter I didn’t want to cause any awkward moments at the family Christmas dinner so I’d booked a week in Hawaii for the holidays. It’s better to be lonely in Waikiki than in my newly rented, snow-bound bachelor apartment in Denver.During the drive to International Airport, Haley and I avoided discussing the looming porce. I wanted to explain what was going on, but how could I? Ever since she and my son, Jack, Jr. went off to college their mom, Darlene, and I had been just two people with nothing to keep us together. I’m in my mid-forties and needed to p...
Playground Mommies
“Mommy! Bayleigh’s here!” My daughter, Hannah, squealed with delight. “Great,” I muttered under my breath.I had hoped for a quiet morning at the park playground, not a morning of small talk with the yoga moms.“Hey, Tina, good to see you,” Bayleigh’s mother, Steffie, flipped her hand in the air, dismissively and halfheartedly waving at me. Steffie was tall, skinny, and blonde. One hand was always glued to one of those mega chai venti pumpkin latte things, and the other hand gripped a new, designer purse each week. Steffie always fished for compliments by complaining about how terrible she looke...