L'Internazionale_The Quarrel_Barefoot in Maine_Ripples on a Quiet Lake
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L'Internazionale
On a Sunday evening in November in 2021, signs were put up by two tired men and a woman in blue overalls outside the gates of Granite High School in a town somewhere east of Seattle and west of New York. The two men and the woman who set up the signs crossed the parking lot and opened the front door of the school. In the entrance, which adjoined the cafeteria and was pided only by a glass wall with the office of the principal, there was a hand trolley with two kegs. They moved the kegs into the cafeteria, which was decorated with a number of signs identical to the ones outside mixed with the u...
The Quarrel
When we got home, the first thing he did was slam the door. Although the sound jarred my nerves, I had to appear unfazed. After all, I wasn't at fault here. "You should be thankful I'm educated, Daniel."He crossed the living room, ducking into the kitchen. If my husband thought he could ignore me and the events of tonight, he had another thing coming."You just can't say 'no', can you?" I asked after following him.He opened the refrigerator with unnecessary force and peered into it. I was getting to him. Good."Jennifer didn't do anything wrong, Cindy." Somehow, Daniel managed to keep a light to...
Barefoot in Maine
The trouble is that I’m all alone in this freezer of a guest room while Jordan’s sleeping on the other side of the wall. This whole idea to meet his family was his. Not only do I have to be alone, but I can’t even feel my feet. In Hawaii, we don’t use socks or slippers. No one warned me that I’d be staying in the Arctic.I hear doors closing and footsteps dowww.onedoor.ccwnstairs. I roll out of bed and throw a sweatshirt over my PJs, open my door, and inch down the creaky wooden stairs. Please Jordan, be down here.“Mahn’n.”An old lady in a long bathrobe and a fur hat with ear flaps is at the other end of the...
Ripples on a Quiet Lake
The aroma of instant coffee woke me up. It wafted into my nostrils, whirled its way into my every nerve, and woke up every bit of my sleeping body parts. I sat cross-legged; hands tucked inside the pocket of my grey sweater, absorbing every heat they can get. My eyes squinted as the tender light of the dawn entered the tent. The fog slowly vanished in the presence of the early morning sun. Puffy, white clouds enveloped the Lover’s Summit – as what everyone called the twin mountains. Mike smiled at me as he transferred freshly fried eggs into the plate filled with white rice and canned corned-b...