New Dryer
I sit sweating at the back of a room I’ve never been before. Years of rehearsed excuses taunt. I’m not like these people, not as bad. A woman stands. “Hello, my name is Sara and I’m . . .” I close the door behind me.
Secret Pocket
Her good friend, surely she could be trusted. “I won’t tell a soul,” she’d said crossing her heart. It was in the whispers, the pin drop silence around the water cooler. Lesson learned, Kate thought, who the fuck still crosses her heart?
Broken Zipper
Twenty gates shot open on a crisp morning. Dirt slapped at thunderous legs and her mouth foamed. The roar of lofty hats grew louder. She was close, wanted to please, but pain followed a snap and her shoulder hit the ground first.
Yellow Cardigan
Fogged windows, twists and turns. It started as a kiss, a taste, but a soft moan swept her ear and she knew. She wanted. His knee hit the gear shift, they laughed to tears. His eyes danced, and she knew. She loved.
Fantastic Shoes
I’ve never been a very good fan. I have a hard time wearing things on my T-shirts. I’m not a big chanter, screamer, “Oh my God…” type of person. I do, however, love music and there have been two times in my life that I have slept on a sidewalk for concert tickets. Once in junior…
Drip Dry
She stumbled out of the bar, as she had seamless nights before. Mouth like cotton, the dull streetlights again swirled dizzy. Beers to shots by midnight and a bouncer’s grip by two. Slouched in a taxi, she wondered where she was heading.
Torn Dress
The letter fell to the floor twenty minutes before nine. Smearing lipstick across her tear soaked face, it was clear she had lost her grip. She sat, one shoe, and waited for the rats to crawl through her forgotten wedding cake mind. That’s all from the laundry room. Lost Dream. Forty-two words exactly. The…
Stain
There is a crack in my windshield. A rock hit the upper corner on the passenger’s side. It was one of those pops where I wasn’t sure if it hit the frame or the actual glass. It was loud and sort of shocking. I leaned over and saw the pronged star. It wasn’t that big, but it looked deep.…
Silk Scarf
My forty-two words for Yeah Write’s Gargleblaster Challenge. The prompt…“Tell me something, old friend: why are you fighting?” She sat by me in the auditorium, more hair missing now than present under her scarf. The lights dimmed. “Why are we here? You should be…” “Shh. Our daughters are on stage. This is where I should be.” I held…