A Perfect Game_The Woman in the Doorway_The "M" in FOMO stands for Mars_Taking Time
Catalog Guide:
A Perfect Game
ㅤIt was Friday night at The Mayflower, which meant the peanuts on the bar hadn’t been replaced in days. As the red pool ball sank into the corner pocket, the man with the beard pumped his fist in triumph. The clean-shaven man was pretending not to pay any attention to hide his annoyance at the fact that he was losing, like usual. He placed the blame on the new jeans his girlfriend had bought him, they were too tight around his thighs and plagued him with a constant nagging worry that his arse crack was showing. Avoiding looking down at the table, his eyes came to rest on the clubhouse board of...
The Woman in thwww.onedoor.cce Doorway
The Woman in the DoorwayRay got to the Denny’s twenty minutes early because he knew it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation with Edgar. He wanted a few minutes to run the conversation he wanted to have through his head and get a good amount of caffeine flowing through his system before Edgar arrived. It had been a late night as their band headlined a small club the night before. The crowd was pretty modest, maybe seventy-five people in a room that can hold two hundred-fifty, but they had been enthusiastic and Ray was also mulling over what it meant that the band, an all-male Go-Go’s cover b...
The "M" in FOMO stands for Mars
The “M” in FOMO stands for Mars By Laura PamenterI roll over in my cot and look out my oval window to the dusty red horizon. My bedsheets are rough on my bare arms, as they’re made from scratchy canvas, locally grown on our cotton-field where I earn my barely liveable salary. “Be a part of the new world!” they said. “Be the future!” This doesn’t feel like the future; creaky wooden beds, cloth tunics, and charred fish with mashed potatoes three times a day. But everything must be locally grown and farmed here as part of the new sustainability model.“It's how we create civilization,” they said. ...
Taking Time
“What was it like being her neighbor?” “Oh, um, yes… Well…” the widowed Mrs. Byrd stuttered out.The reporter blinked encouragingly with a warm smile.“She was a kind young woman” Mrs. Bryd said softly, pausing deeply before continuing. “Looking in from the outside, someone might say she was always running late. But from my point of view, she was just running on her own schedule.”The young reporter, about the same age as Sarah had been, scribbled something down on her notepad. She leaned in closer towards Mrs. Byrd and questioned…“What do you mean by that?”Mrs. Byrd hesitated. She sat back in he...