An Unusual Pair_The Things I Wrote_Morning News_Nighttime Coffee on Howell Street
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An Unusual Pair
An Unusual PairThey are an unusual pair. One flies high and with his acute vision can spot food that even some of those on the ground might not see. The other doesn’t rely so much on his eyes – nose first, ears second and eyes third. And yet, despite their differences, they get along just fine. The one provides food without trying to, which the other steals and always get away with it.The wolf isn’t selfish enough to care about losing a little food. He has enough to eat with each kill. The raven is the thief of the pair, always glad of the wolf’s skills in hunting. The first time they met, the...
The Things I Wrote
The Things I Wrote By Jennifer Leigh KieferIn sixth grade, you stopped me in the hall by our lockers. You had noticed I was reading a book you liked. I was new to the school; you were my first friend. By seventh grade we had a friend group that was inseparable. Bonded by books, bonded by the written word. We spent our time writing stories and acting out the ones we read in the woods by your house. Out there we could do and be anything. We would climb the trees like cats or fly out of them like birds. Those woods were a whole world to us then. You were so wonderfully adventurous, always convinc...
Morning News
Morning News By Jalissa Mooney I had chosen the Army Bugle Call as my alarm for seven am. Turns out it was a bad idea. When it went off at seven o’clock on the dot, I fell out of bed and plopped onto the floor. At least there was carpet. Of course, one sniff, and I realized I needed to vacuum. Since my bed wasn’t even twenty-four inches off the ground I knew that I hadn’t broken anything. So I lifted myself up and onto my knees to reach across my bedside table and turn off my alarm. As I stood up I groaned. I had slept on my leg the wrong way and now it was half asleep. Limping, I made it to ...
Nighttime Coffee on Howell Street
The Coffee Antoinette I’m caught up in the moment, as they say, so much that I almost don’t notice as Jaco steps into the tiny corner cafe at 6:00. He looks different than the last time I saw him. He shakes off his wet umbrella, hanging it on the coat rack directly adjacent to the door’s hinges and rubbing his muddy loafers on the mat.I stand, quickly and quietly, expecting him to see me. He does not. He instead makes his way to the counter, orders a cup of coffee, and takes a seat at a window table for two. It doesn’t twww.onedoor.ccake much thought to decide that I’ll go over there. It’s not like he won’t...