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A small bag of papers, tucked inside the heater grate. Miracle the house never burned down. You tug it up slowly, knowing you should be packing, remembering very clearly that this room was hers before. It's purple and silky--nice--until you notice the Kotex logo and realize it's a promo(more)
Even now, standing just outside the church doors, listening to the organ swell, they called to her. She shook her head, trying to focus on the moment, on the man waiting at the end of a short walk.  

Her baby niece skipped forward through the doors, already spilling(more)
Kaira couldn't voice what she felt. She couldn't think it, or sing it, or even write it.

She tried projecting it out of her eyes - that worked in novels. She stared soulfully, mournfully, desperately, erotically. She blinked slow, and fast, with eye contact, and from under he(more)
A box, even a small one. A twin-sized bed, my compact car, a zero-degree sleeping bag. My jeans, sort of. A classroom, definitely, and always between the pages of a book.

But not in your house, your heart, your bed, or your head.
"Let's go out tonight," she said suddenly, looking as though the words had surprised even her when they sprung from her lips.

Bizarrely, the first thing he thought was that he wanted to take a photograph. They were perfectly framed there in front of him, interesting angles of the staircase rail and the natural curves of the leafy trees drawing the eyes directly to the pair.
Martin stood carefully, focusing on proper demeanor. His father was next to him, paunch puffed up under his waistcoat in importance, looking proudly on the sickening scene before them. Occasionally, his head would bob nervously as he glanced at the Lord and smiled in an ingratiating manner.

He carefully focused on the crunchy feeling of the old carpet beneath his legs, on the pinkness of his thumb against the blue Lego block grasped tightly in his hand - on anything but the muffled sobbing coming from the living room. His mother had told him to stop,(more)