Trying to sit still in the waiting room amidst the page-turning, soft coughs, and punctuating whirrs of machinery was driving her directly to insanity. She looked down wistfully at the perfectly manicured nails on her clammy hand.
“Mrs. Adderson?” said the nurse, pleasantly, as her red left pupil dilated noticeably from across the room.
“Miss. Yes?”
“Doctor Faden will see you now. Right this way.”
… continue reading this entry.
Her usual aggravated expression was in full swing beneath her spotless perm this morning as her business heels clicked down the sidewalk. Avoiding the indifferent bump of strangers (to spare her starched power-suit from stain) was always a task in the city, and the whistles and cries and begs of the many homeless she ignored – with poise, of course – didn’t help out either.
She didn’t have time for the feckless. The meeting was in an hour, and the tugging vibrate of her cell phone told her that everyone was pacing together like soon-to-be fathers in a waiting room.
… continue reading this entry.
3701 Glendale Lane loved Albert Flemmy, despite all his faults.
He was a solitary man, seemingly friendless, in the dusk of his life. Short, fat, balding, bespeckled, grumpy Albert, all work and no play Albert, who’s entire life consisted of a job and microwave dinners across a room from a run-down thirteen inch television set.
… continue reading this entry.
He ran as if his life depended on it. In a way, it probably did.
All he could hear was the sound of his own feet pounding madly on concrete, all force and no grace. Air rammed itself into his lungs and then quickly launched back out in a shallow anti-rhythm. There are limits to everything, and he had most certainly surpassed his sometime in the night. He afforded one precious turn of his head, just to see if they were still there.
At first, nothing.
… continue reading this entry.