Maybe the soil is too moist;maybe the roots have begun to rot—plant care has never been my strong suit,as I have the tendency to overwater. Plants are a bit capricious in that way;they need a balance of commitment and indifference—a … Continue reading The Botanist
“We really don’t get enough of those timeless little boxes. Customers are asking for them all year long.” Continue reading Local Goodwill asks for more Heart-Shaped Tins
A little worn around the corners, rough around the edges, and in some spots, you’re splitting at the seams, but you seem to hug me in all the right places even though you’re a bit oversized I think it’s kinda stylish. And how could I expect a thrift store find to have a perfect fit? I’m not saying that you’re cheap, but we all feel a little used sometimes. Continue reading Jacket
“Why are you smoking so fast? Enjoy it,” Katerina said. She took the hand-rolled cigarette from me and took a drag. The tip glowed briefly as she inhaled. I watched the orange flecks of light circulate between the tufts of tobacco. She lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and gracefully exhaled a slender train of smoke. She smiled and handed the cigarette back to me.
“See?”
The Challenge: Write a complete story in 26 sentences, each sentence beginning with a sequential letter of the alphabet. In other words, the first sentence starts with A, the second with B, the third with C and so on. Continue reading Creative Writing Challenge: The Alphabet Game (Thea)
I was standing on the balcony of my grandmother’s seventh-floor flat in Athens breathing in the air that felt like the armpit of the hottest part of the day: 2 p.m. The white tile and gray grout flooring reflected a flat pang of harsh sunlight into my eyes. The bright ground made my feet look dark and dirty. The tan lines from my sandals led from one chapped little blister to the next down the sides of my feet. People walked here so much; I should have brought different shoes.
We kissed like we had a thousand times before – mouths moving in tandem, sharing a space that only existed between our pressed lips. It felt like home. I caressed my hand down your cheek. Just a few atoms of my fingertips grazed the fibers of your dark beard. I looked into your eyes like I had a thousand times before. It felt like home. Then you said,
“What are you doing?”
