Re-Connecting the Pieces_Popcorn Ceilings_Attic Us Finch_Tiny Voices
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Re-Connecting the Pieces
Ray pulled his glasses from his face and www.onedoor.ccbent over to rub and brush out the wood shavings from the neat groove he made. He blew and brushed at it again. As he was sliding the glasses back into place, his door opened. He held back a sigh, turning to see who it was as he pulled his glasses off. “Raven!” It was his twin sister, Rosa, and she was waving something excitedly in the air. Paper. He was starting to wonder what was on it, then realized that that was why she was in there in the first place. “Raven!” She repeated, her wide grin was infectious, so he smiled a little in return. “What?” He a...
Popcorn Ceilings
Tate might have a weed problem. He might have a chemical imbalance. He might be completely normal, just like everyone else. He’s not sure. One thing he knows is that the days he can harness his ‘I don’t care’ attitude are easier. On those days he thinks screw it, it doesn’t matter. Instead of would that be stupid to say? Why did I say that? Are they looking at me? Tate listens to Dax Shepard’s podcast. Dax is rich and famous. Tate is a B average student and his mom pays his rent and his other expenses, even his weed. Dax is in touch with his emotions and often reflects on his own insecurities ...
Attic Us Finch
In June 1998 my father, Abel Finch, started living in the attic of our home. I had just turned sixteen so whether this was a response to my coming of age or merely a retraction from society was not clear. It was difficult not to take this personally however at such a formative age in my life. He only set foot outside that attic once more which was during the hot summer of 1999、In the early days of his lofty occupation my mother, a sensible woman, assumed this was merely a phase, perhaps a reaction to the onslaught of middle age or the pressures of his job as a family solicitor. Surely no one c...
Tiny Voices
Three. Four. Five steps to the bedroom window. I rose every day at exactly sixty minutes to sunrise, not a minute earlier or later; otherwise I had stomach pains well into the evening. During that time I tended to several tasks, opening the windows in the right order. First the second floor, starting from the bedroom, seventeen steps to the bathroom, and twenty more step to the immaculately neat guest room (despite the fact it had not accommodated any guest for years). Afterwards down the twelve staircase steps. First left foot then joined by right, and on the landing a touch of foot to the si...