She leaned wearily against the table in front of the college class, one arm on the podium where her lecture outline dozed, the attendance sheet a thin blanket over her notes. The room settled, notebooks snapped open, and pens rested easily in young hands, skateboards flipped and stashed under desk chairs, backpacks collapsed on the floor. Continue reading
“What goes around, comes around, again and again and again,” Sharlie muttered, shuffling her feet – along with all her fellow shift workers at Widgetties Inc — over the cracks and buckles in the sidewalk that led up to the factory’s tall, iron double doors. Her steel-toed boots were worn, soles held to uppers with fraying duct tape. “Uh-huh, Baby needs a new pair of shoes, but first she needs a different, better job.” Continue reading
She swings again, the blunt-edged sword whistling past his ear by a hair’s breadth. He slices upward with his own wooden blade. Continue reading
Nora reached two fingers towards the mound of shaving cream on the tiny table. Sliding her fingers across and down, she palmed the foam, squishing it flat and rotating her hand slowly. Continue reading
Smokey sighed and sniffed the shirt front and wide-brimmed hat of the abandoned Park Ranger uniform. It had been dropped near the scenic overview, next to the Michigan-plated Lexus. Betsy likely hadn’t even noticed that her guide had paws, not hands and feet.