I remember the first time I became aware of her. I was sent to her classroom with a note from another teacher. I'd stepped in just as she was quieting down her students after some sort of disruption, and she turned her head as I opened the door with her big, almost accusatory eyes piercing… Continue reading Ms. Hardy’s 6th Grade Class
It's not surprising that he's crept into my thoughts more during the past week. I learned how to Christmas with him in my life. Doesn't help that google likes to remind me what happened "on this day" X years ago. Anything more than 3 years usually includes memories of the time that my label was… Continue reading Can you help me? (Or: Why I’ll never allow a television in my bedroom again)
When a challenge is presented, one either elects to accept or reject it. Should one accept said challenge, one should fulfill said objective to the best of her ability. Which brings me to this point, crafting one hundred words via text while in a hot, bubble filled tub as suggested by he whose suggestions are… Continue reading Bathtub Drabble
Someone over on FetLife created a November Dribble/Drabble challenge. A drabble is a story made up of exactly 100 words (title not included in this version of the challenge). A dribble is exactly half that - a story set in 50 words. The challenge is to complete either one drabble a day or one dribble… Continue reading November Dribbles: Perfect Circle
Her shoulders are hunched as she takes each knock-kneed baby step toward the kitchenette, using her french-manicured and liver-spotted hands to steady herself on any furniture she passes along the way. I offer to help, but no. She won't allow it. I sit back and send an email to work that I'll be late this… Continue reading Ritual
I'm falling. I was laying on my back on some sort of exercise bench that was rickety and only long enough to support me from ass to shoulders. My head was hanging backward off one end, and I was struggling to find a position or some leverage that would stabilize my legs without aggravating the… Continue reading Priorities
When I miss him, I ask if I can "see" him and he sends me a selfie. I was still three days away from seeing him again. He sent me a selfie. He was smiling in it. "is that smile for me?" I asked him. "The smile. The photo. The excitement." I grinned. "Oh, but… Continue reading One Lucky Whore
Beads of sweat still glistened, trapped in the soft hairs of his chest and belly. She gently wiped them away with the tip of a finger, one by one, reminiscent of the chasing and popping of bubbles floating through the air during a childhood summer. Her ear to his chest, she could feel more than… Continue reading His
polyammering 