Submit_Attention_inherited shadows_A Window on Life
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Submit
Do I hit the button? I’ve asked myself that a thousand times since I began staring at the computer screen. I’ve been glued to this same screen for hours. I haven’t even switched tabs once. I just keep staring at this one little button. There’s no way I can hit it. ‘Submit.’ Such a simple word yet it brings about such feelings of anxiety.My mouse hovers over the button. I tell myself I can just press it then close my laptop and run away. Of course, it’s never that simple. As soon as I hit the button my brain will start to run. What if it isn’t good enough? What if everybody hates it? Am I even...
Attention
I’ve never believed any of it.The air is hot and sticky, and it whirls leaves around my feet. There are decorations everywhere, and this is the first time Mom let me dress up and go trick-or-treating alone. Of course, I am not alone. We scavenge our street for sweets, and then we move over, and we don’t stop until late at night.The nights are light here. When I was choosing where to go for college, it never occurred to me that this place, just a couple hours’ drive away, was that far North. It doesn’t snow here,www.onedoor.cc even though it does at home.When we graduate, the shop at the university doesn’t s...
inherited shadows
The paved road had long ago given way to dirt and gravel. I was a bit worried about the whole situation. We had started out from the city before the sun was up, not that we needed the sun in a metropolitan area. The bright white lights that hung from each lamp post gave a soft white glow that lit up the whole area. As we got further and further out of the city though, I began to realize that there was another world out here. I hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, but my cousin and friend said it would be fun. I was actually bewildered and taken aback when I was contacted and told that I had inh...
A Window on Life
Since Sadie had not gone out in the two weeks since Harold’s funeral, she had almost forgotten what whole people looked like. From their basement flat, the former servants’ quarters of a once elegant Edwardian townhouse, she could see only legs from the knee down passing the window. She had never paid attention to how low and gloomy the flat was when Harold was alive. He was gregarious and funny, and they had always been going somewhere and doing something, even if it was just a short walk in the park. Then he had dropped dead of an aneurysm. Now that the funeral was over and their daughter...