The New Year card they sent spoke of nothing but merriment and bright tidings. I looked at the rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes of the children in the picture: identical twins holding onto the leashes of identical puppies. I wondered how she could send this card to me. Didn't she know that I knew? That I'd heard about everything that had happened in the past year? That I was privy to information that only a select few were? What was she trying to pull?
***
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the woman in front of him. Lines traversed her face and hollows gathered in her cheeks. Fine wisps of gray-brown hair pulled away from the messy ponytail she kept at the back of her head. Her hands worked to scrub the coffee stain out of the floor and an image of his mother floated into his mind. His mother on her hands and knees as she mercilessly attacked the round, red blood that had seeped into the tile. The whispers. The shouts. The shackles that gripped his wrists.
***
It all came down to the last three seconds of the game, and there she stood, with the ball in her clammy hands and three defenders coming toward her.
***
Nothing could have prepared the young man for the sight he encountered the moment he opened the door of the cab. (Thanks to S.B., I've been thinking about cabs lately.)
***
The rain falling on the sidewalk sneaked into her house and grabbed her by the shoulders. She tried to push the droplets away, but couldn't. Next came the clouds, which threaded themselves through her arms and legs, trapping her. She fell to the floor, waiting for the sun to come rescue her, but realized, at the same time, that she needed to find the strength to rescue herself.
***
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the woman in front of him. Lines traversed her face and hollows gathered in her cheeks. Fine wisps of gray-brown hair pulled away from the messy ponytail she kept at the back of her head. Her hands worked to scrub the coffee stain out of the floor and an image of his mother floated into his mind. His mother on her hands and knees as she mercilessly attacked the round, red blood that had seeped into the tile. The whispers. The shouts. The shackles that gripped his wrists.
***
It all came down to the last three seconds of the game, and there she stood, with the ball in her clammy hands and three defenders coming toward her.
***
Nothing could have prepared the young man for the sight he encountered the moment he opened the door of the cab. (Thanks to S.B., I've been thinking about cabs lately.)
***
The rain falling on the sidewalk sneaked into her house and grabbed her by the shoulders. She tried to push the droplets away, but couldn't. Next came the clouds, which threaded themselves through her arms and legs, trapping her. She fell to the floor, waiting for the sun to come rescue her, but realized, at the same time, that she needed to find the strength to rescue herself.
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