It’s just the three of us. My boyfriend, his best friend, and me.
We are a threesome. I love Jim, I think. He’s handsome, athletic, and he treats me like a flower. 
But I really like John, Jim’s best friend and roommate. He’s a thinker, a philosopher, a Henry Thoreau look alike, only better looking. Continue reading
The Friday it happened, I went about my business as usual, helping nature beautify the world. I’d seen a lot of strange objects in my line of work: deflated balls; rusted costume jewelry; musty leather wallets with soggy dollar bills; even a diamond ring, which I had to return to its divorced owner.
But I’d never seen what I came across on that afternoon, between the hydrangea bushes and the to-be-planted dogwood trees. Continue reading
A year or so before my mom’s dementia took her mind away, she shocked me by stopping in front of my digital kitchen clock and proclaiming, “4:44 – that’s a great sign! Happiness, or good luck, or something like that.” Continue reading
“Stevie, I don’t have a creature inside me,” I insist. “In fact, there’s not much left to me at all,” I stare down at my decrepit body, hunched over from arthritis and age.
“That’s the point, Auntie!” Stevie exclaims. “The creature inside you is young. Vibrant. Viral.”
Readers: I’m Lucia, and my story began at the last post (https://roughwighting.net/2023/04/07/the-creature-within/) explaining that my brilliant nephew Stevie is convincing me to take a pill he invented that will help me become“the creature within.” At my old age, crooked with regrets, I decide to take the plunge, so to speak. Many of you guessed I will turn into a dragon, or a bird, a snake or a butterfly. Some of you even guessed I’d become a … well, wait, I’m holding the pill in my hand …
I always liked Stevie as a kid. He was kooky, and so was I. But I was in my mid-40s when he was born.
By the time Stevie was a teen, his intellect was genius level, and his nerdiness disturbed his two straighter-than-an arrow parents, so they put him in an advanced program at MIT and crossed fingers he’d be accepted by the other odd souls that hovered in the halls of techno academia. Continue reading
roughwighting 