Iced Coffee_Blanket of Snow_Stronger_The Irritant
Catalog Guide:
Iced Coffee
I didn’t start out the day intending to break someone’s nose. I just wanted to get some errands done. Grab a coffee, get some stamps and pick up my prescription. That’s it. But here I am, sitting in this jail cell waiting for my husband to come pick me up and bail me out, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.This wouldn’t have happened a year ago. I would have just done my errands and been back sitting on my couch in time to watch Jerry Springer. Everything is just so complicated now. Wear your mask, stand six feet apart, sanitize your hands. I’m so sick of it. I feel like it’s never ...
Blanket of Snow
(TW: passive suicidal ideation)Lucy sat on the windowsill, staring out at the late March snowfall. Wintery weather at this time of year was not at all unheard of in Cooke City, Montana. Especially up in the mountains. Lucy absentmindedly wondered if the lake a few yards away from her parent’s vacation house was still completely frozen over. No, the date that the calendar happened to show had nothing to do with the way Lucy felt captivated by what she was seeing. The snow was silently falling, delicate as the breath of a newborn who’d just fallen asleep. But it was also heavy, as if it may slo...
Stronger
The bus doors opened with a hiss and children poured out onto the grey wet pavement. Zachery stepped out just as the bus doors closed again, he struggled to button up his worn blazer. He couldn’t wait to start Year 8 and finally get a new school uniform. A cold breeze whistled past him as he peered down the dimly lit road and saw barren trees lining his path ahead like scarecrows. Looking at an alleyway to his right, he gazed into the darkness and a chill crawled up his spine. He tightened his grip around the straps of his backpack and his tattered black shoes hit the pavement with a splash as...
The Irritant
The IrritantEvery morning, at six thirty AM, I get up and put the coffee on. I yawn and rub my eyes while I wait for it to percolate, rubbing tiredness, thoughts, and wine from my face, though they stubbornly remain. It’s been this way for a while now. I’ve become used to it. Every morning the thought is the same; I appear to have made myself friendless.Every morning I go down the lift to the ground floor and walk through the brown brick rows of houses until I reach the Uxbridge Road. I don’t take the tube because I’m trying to save money. I want to go on holiday later this year, a real one, ...