Roscoe has defiled Doyle's living room, again. So, Doyle was siphoning resources—not much, about a tenth of one percent—from RAMPART's projection of a post-Great Lakes Midwest to figure out what to do about the dog. Head down, avoiding the gaze of tenured professors and project managers, he played with parameters: what if I'd had Roscoe since he was a puppy? What if I was his first and only owner? What if I was still with May and wasn't trying to take care of him all alone?
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Ye Olde Plastic Knight
I awoke at the crack of noon. My first order of business was to determine my whereabouts. I appeared to be home, although one can never be certain. I searched for my chalice to soothe my parched throat, but it was empty. I resolutely made the journey from reclining to standing.
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‘This Is Us’ — The Drama of Body Shaming, Diversity, and Conflict on My TV
Being a voracious reader since forever, I have always been a sucker for a good story. Unwittingly, I tend to submerge myself in characters so completely that for those few moments I belong entirely to them — crying with them, laughing with them — oblivious of the tear rolling down my cheek or the smile plastered on my face, participating in their glee as well as their grief.
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The Lone Walk
The sand beneath my feet whirls away, sweeping me off in a sway. On the floor, I lay, as my grief is in bits, gradually fraying. I stifle a chill as the breezes go hay, the sun grows cold and gray, on a thick cloudy day in May with no hope and no sun rays.
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Heaven Simple
the wind did not howl but the door frame is loose vibrated and swayed like the unhinged rusting tin roof and her anxious heart
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9 AM Discovery
Open the album to see your roots. Hover your petite fingers across the beige page with the woman’s face you inherited.
