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Weekly Contest #351
After my long overdue cleaning efforts, the cramped apartment shines—except for the rustic cherrywood drafting table in the living room corner. Lord knows how much dust and remaining heartache rests on its surface, hidden behind that dark curtain. Exactly a year’s worth of dust and heartache. To escape, I turn and pass through the doorway. Will she show? The 627 white door swings closed with a—thunk!—and I twist the brass key into the lock. Pa-ting! Could it be? I whip out my phone to check the text. Damn. Not Liv. 7:55 PM Antonio: Hey Nolan...
Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31st. In the top bunk, Nadia lies on her stomach, trying to double check her math homework. The barrage of noises from underwater penetrate her headset’s white noise: the engine’s groans, the hull’s knocking, and Jenny’s music. To find solitude in the confines of PS-105, the studious teenager had no options. What a brat, Nadia repeats to herself. Just because Jenny had turned fifteen last month meant she got her headset upgraded; no more parental controls. And the older bunkmate eagerly flaunts her privilege, letting the wired...
Weekly Contest #348
C’mon. Stupid computer. I wiggle the mouse beside the photo printer. The spinning blue circle still hovers beside the white arrow. Ugh. Saturdays always get busy, of course. I don’t have time for delays. Mister Watson had reminded our team just this morning: “We promise five-star customer service here at Walgreens. That means the front register, the pharmacy, and the photo center. Looking at you, Landon.” Thanks a lot, boss. With a sigh, I slump onto the blue-cushioned stool, hiding behind the computer monitor. I lower my elbows onto the ...
Weekly Contest #347
I shiver beneath the unfamiliar floral-patterned bedcovers. How can I calm my anxious heart? Solitude is a simple antidote. Though once my heart absorbs this remedy, clearing the chaos, loneliness dwells. Now a fresh call for healing persists. A companion’s gentleness, in the way of talk, trust, touch—these relief forms are superlative. Maybe the most wholesome consolation for a heart like mine. Well, perhaps any heart. I had achieved loneliness, maintaining it for the past three weeks since the funeral. Divorce had been dreadful enough. T...
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