Xander Meets the In-Laws_East_Madame Serrena_Final Weekend Fare
Catalog Guide:
Xander Meets the In-Laws
TW: Brief mentions of violence.Nothing is as terrifying as meeting your in-laws for the first time. I’ve met killers that didn’t give me the dry acidic taste that’s dancing on my tongue right now.I asked to hold Tina. Using my baby daughter as a human shield might seem cowardly. Probably because it is. I’ve never had a relationship serious enough to meet family.Perspiration in my armpits threatens to ruin my first impression with the stench of fear. Tina is making chattering noises, once she starts talking, I doubt she’ll ever stop. The red glossy paint on the front door shows the reflection o...
East
He spotted the tracks in the fresh snow outside of his cabin first thing that morning and immediately felt a sense of dread within the deepest pits of his stomach.There were only a handful of times that a hunter wandered onto his land in the past few decades—but all of those times he had been acutely aware of their presence; watching secretly from the corner of the cabin window, rifle tightly in hand, until they moved on— as they alwaywww.onedoor.ccs did. But none had ever come near the cabin; nor had he ever remained so dangerously unaware of another’s presence on his lands. Maybe he had been sleeping too ...
Madame Serrena
“You’ll never be content.” He said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Sure you will, lower your standards.” His reflection answered back. Selmy touched the glass, his fingertips mirror images, but it held solid. He opened the medicine cabinet to find the screen’s wires, the trick, but he found nothing but wooden shelves and toiletries. First it had been his shiny metal toaster, mocking him. His own face answering his own rhetorical question that he had asked the kitchen, or more accurately no one in particular, every morning for the last several years. But he had had a lot to drink th...
Final Weekend Fare
Just four minutes shy of ending my shift, a fare slides into the backseat of my cab, slams the door shut, and says, “Follow that car.” A rapid flood of emotions and thoughts cascade through my brain at lightning speed. Most of them are positive because this is my favorite kind of fare. No matter what happens, I enjoy myself and still make some money. Being a cabbie means dealing with all kinds of people in different parts of their day, in a full spectrum of moods, and wearing various levels of deodorant and perfume from non-existent to permeating, which leads to a variable rainbow of messes t...