Jamie sped through the streets, imagining she had fairy wings. It changed to wings of fire, then later shifted to angel’s wings. Whatever her wings were made of, they made her speed through the neighborhood’s streets faster and faster.
She was a goddess in flight.
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One-handed didn’t quite work out. She took one egg in both her hands and cracked it forcefully against the bowl. The insides slid gracefully into the container. That seemed to work.
Repeat. Crack. Slide. Read more…
Broad-shouldered man in a black collared shirt. He looked hot. And young. Too young for me in my late 30s. I went back to my reading and sipped my venti latte. At the corner of my eye though, I saw him approaching my table.
“Michelle?,” he smiled uncertainly. Hmm, he knew my name.
“Yes?,” I smiled back, taking in this young Adonis before me. Young Adonis? Crap, I am old thinking this way.
“It’s me, Charlie. Charlie Baxter,” he said, smiling again and holding out his hand awkwardly. Baxter. No way. “Er, you used to go out with my older brother Brian.” Read more…
I hate it when I lose my best friends to their boyfriends.
The Best friend #1 Case. I was sitting at the coffee shop waiting for her. She’s usually ten minutes late, but when half an hour passed by without a text from her I knew something was up. “I’m at the nook. Where are you?,” I texted. It took twenty minutes before I got a reply. “So sorry. Am with James. Resched?” Well. My coffee was cold, my stories were old and I was all by my lonesome on a Sunday morning. “OK,” I texted back.
Maybe I should get new friends. Read more…
In another life, I’d be in a brownstone. It would be nine am and I’d be running around the apartment while tying a scarf around my neck, crossing my fingers I don’t slip and strangle myself. My roommate would be finishing up her cereal in the kitchen, looking all zen as much as I look all frazzled… Read more…
“I grew up to taunts of my schoolmates, but paid them no heed. The victor was always me. Me licking the vanilla frosting off a strawberry cupcake. Me picking out dried apricots from my fruit bread. Me nibbling on the icing of a gingerbread cookie. My schoolmates would watch me rise from the ground and head over to my lunchbox, where I would find respite in my aunt’s baked goods. They would watch me take a bite out of each sweet but stood their ground. Pride kept them from wanting to ask if the raspberry filling of my pie tasted as good as it looked.” Read more…