The Cellist_Like Father Like Daughter_My Life Teacher_Lunch Is Canceled
Catalog Guide:
The Cellist
Scarlett is working on her last travel blog. When she submits to her editor at Globetrotters United, she will receive her stipend of $500. It will be her last payment. National lockdown restrictions will prevent any future traveling for the foreseeable future. She sighed and wondered what her children were up to. It was Monday, an asynchronous workday. She doubted they were working ahead of any of their assignments. Deciding to take a break, Scarlett took a brush that she kept in a metal tin box by her workstation and ran it through her thick cascading curls. She didn’t look like her mother or...
Like Father Like Daughter
It was a cool March morning, though the warmest it had been in recent months. Signs of spring’s arrival littered the trees above the porch behind the large home. There, at the white cast iron furniture set, sat Theo Hartman. The short round man sipped his coffee while he paged through a Nora Roberts novel. He thought he may have read this one before but wasn’t sure so he continued. The sunlight that peered over the top of his home and onto the pages disappeared behind the outline of someone's head.“Good morning,” he said without looking.“‘Morning, sir.”Theo set his book face down on the table ...
My Life Teacher
"We have plenty of time!” She said, after I failed.It’s funny, how she would always say “us”, she had always felt close to me. “You can go to ‘Hites’ anytime you want. You’ve got plenty of years of school ahead of you. You don’t even have to try to get in next time, and this isn’t a failure. You will continue to learn in my theater school! That’s better anyways. You’ll have more fun!”After I failed, I didn’t try to get in to ‘Hites’ - the school of high theater education - ever again until it was too late. I was twenty already. Two years have passed since my last chance. I was so afraid of fai...
Lunch Is Canceled
Life in her shadow became a long dark moment. It all started in the kitchen. John was seasoning a steak — with too much pepper, if you ask me — as he explained for the hundredth time why we should adopt a child. Knowing I was cornered until he was done pontificating, I leaned against the fridge, almost regretting my trip there for the glass of water in my hand, nodding and saying “uh-huh” at the appropriate intervals. He paused just long enough to chug the now lukewarm coffee I gave him earlier, then restarted his lecture with new vigor. I was only half listening, but to be fair it was the s...