It's library o'clock_Her Diary._Impatient Ambitions_Waiting for Gabby
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It's library o'clock
She looked at him sitting across her, under the warm light of the hanging lamps, settling into his book, his cheekbones angled handsomely in his reading gaze.She was young after all; too young for such big feelings, she thought. But she had room in her arms for big books, big thoughts, big sighs.* * *The student year had ended, the dissertations handed in frantically, evaluated, the grades just received. They had returned this afternoon to campus to tie up a few loose ends. They had gone to his department and handed in an application to continue as a research assistant to his supervisor. Then ...
Her Diary.
She was a girl who wrote everything. How she woke up to how her day ended; she wrote everything. To say that she kept a diary was an understatement. It was less a diary and more of a daily catalog. She had started this as an exercise when she was 12; but as she had progressed well into adulthood, it had become a daily routine. She had written every day without fail about every single thing that had happened throughout the day. And she wrote it down in great detail. So meeting a boy from her college (who wwww.onedoor.ccas also cute) would have been the first thing that she should have written, right? Uh huh…...
Impatient Ambitions
"What do you want me to do?" I screamed, throwing a pillow at her. She picked up the pillow quickly and threw it back at me. "Just do this one little thing for me, please?" she pleaded, giving the puppy eyes tactic a try. My cold unforgiving eyes repelled the attempt at making me give up. "Why should I do it?" I shouted. My arms folded across my chest as I stared her down. She humphed and replied, "Because I said so."When I met Ana, she was this sweet little girl. Every day, we'd meet up after school and share an ice cream together. The sticky drops from the cold bonded us together, making us ...
Waiting for Gabby
ACT IA hallway in a tenement flat. No windows. A tattered sofa. MARGO is slouched on the sofa, in her pyjamas. Her trousers are rolled up at the hem, and her feet hanging over the edge of the sofa, avoiding the sticky floor. She groans and sinks a little further into the sofa cushions.Offstage, the kettle boils. The sound of water splashing, cups clinking. Then DINARA enters, balancing two cups of tea.Margo That’s it. I’m dying.Dinara I’m starting to feel it myself. Here, tea. Dinara holds out the tea to Margo, who doesn’t take it. Offended, Dinara places both cups of tea on the ground in fron...