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Weekly Contest #362
She feels sorry for people who cannot cook. Living without knowing that vinegar in the right proportions and under the right conditions can be made to taste like lemon custard for one of the artery-clogging, buttery confections she loves is unfathomable to her. Never experiencing firsthand the wizardry of leavening agents and the lightheartedness they bring when the delectables they encourage pair with warm cups of chicory coffee and vanilla bean cream saddens her and makes her wonder: What happened? Are these people destined to live without...
Weekly Contest #357
She had a love/hate relationship with Black and White. Her contrast against their extremes was a blessing and a curse. But this was worse. This was Grey, neither one nor the other and not itself at all. Her name was Corinne, and she had been Red all her life. She was Cayenne, Crimson, and Scotch Bonnet. She was Fire Engine and Brimstone, but she was never that compromise between Black and White because compromise is crocheted blankets, recliners, canned beans, and gelatin desserts. Compromise is comfortable and palatable, and a mirror that ...
Weekly Contest #328
The Bag I remember the year I turned eight like it was yesterday. I was way too young to wander into a pool hall, but that is exactly what happened almost every night that year. Wrapped in my powder pink robe and rabbit-eared slippers, I hopped off my red vinyl chair, grabbed the quarter Mama left on the table by the front door, and held my breath until I made it to our porch. “Tell Mr. Earl I said hello,” Mama would yell before I reached the bottom step. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered before she finished, kinda like when grownups say “fine” be...
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