Til Death Do Us Part_Appearances_Paper Dolls_Small voices, big stories
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Til Death Do Us Part
“Til death do us part.” I sit in my lukewarm Epsom salted bath. I push rewind on my mind’s eye. “Til death do us part.” I see his shaky left hand, fingers slightly blue under the nails. It was cold in that great stone cathedral. You know the big Catholic families we both came from wouldn’t have it any other way. Stained glass, robes, communion and an atmosphere designed to be frigid so you didn’t fall asleep on “the word of our Lord.” I see his boutonniere, God, the money we spent on those damn orchids. They were lovely though. “Til death do us part.” You’ve heard the story--whirlwind romance,...
Appearances
No disrespect to all the cleaners out there, but house cleaning wasn’t exactly my intended career path. Hey, life happens. It paid the bills while I got back on my feet. Most of my clients forgot my name. I was just the Merrie Maid girl to them, basically invisible. I exacted revenge by giving them all nicknames in my mind and fantasizing about their reactions if I were ever to write a book about all their quirks. For example, there was Ms. Hoarder. She had only accepted cleaning services out of fear of her daughter who had threatened her with Social Services. She followed me from room to room...
Paper Dolls
Content warning: explicit language, violence. “You tell your brother to stop selling in Archway. You tell him to get all his men and move.” Wexley Tones, the man subject to a five-minute harangue was bound by ropes from arm to ankle, covered in bruises from Christmas to Easter. “You listen to what I say, Wexley, any funny business and I find that Connor is still selling in Arch – I promise you won’t be walking straight no more.” The words left the man who was losing whatever marginal appetite for professionalism he once had. Working as a hired-gun for years beyond recollection left Lehane w...
Small voices, big stories
Jasper (81 years old) Brisbane, Queensland 20th September 2019Shouts and chants filled the air outside the apartment window. Jasper sat in his leather sofa, flicking through the Brisbane Times with age-spotted fingers. Lowering the volume of his hearing aid, Jasper once again tried to read the top line of the next paragraph. His eyes had barely skimmed the first few words when a loud crash followed by a chorus of outcries interrupted. Jasper’s eyes rolled heavenward as he slapped his newspaper closed against the worn arm of the sofa. Another protest! Bloody millennials…why can’t they just let ...