“The writing class dug out my neuroses in 30 minutes,” Susie claimed.
Her therapist nodded, eyebrows raised.
“I mean, I’ve been seeing you for five months and all you say to me is ‘how does that make you feel?’” Susie continued, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. “Yet in the class I attended on a whim, I discovered things I never knew about myself!” Continue reading
I’m alone again. Toby is out on patrol. I accepted that he was a police officer when he asked me to marry him two years ago. I accept that he puts his life in danger every day for public safety. I accept that the men and women he works with on the police department are, as he says, “his family.”
But I am not accepting his third stint in three months of the late night shift.
“I think we need to return,” he whispered in her ear. An ear he knew so well, shell-shaped and as pink as a wish.
“No!” she protested. “We’re safe here. Let’s just roam.”
His smile, small and protective, told her everything she needed to know.
“It’s okay, you know. It’s okay the way things are,” he assured her. Continue reading
© Shelley Steinle, illustrator.
A year ago I lost my purr.
At the time, I didn’t think of it that way. I was suffering the side effects of a concussion. All summer long I’d been unable to enjoy the activities that helped me feel fulfilled.
- Limited screen time, which meant little to no computer/TV/Kindle/phone usage.
- Reading was difficult because of eye strain and blur.
- I mean, really, even thinking was a chore.
What’s a writer-woman to do? Continue reading
It’s an open secret that dreams reveal our innermost worries and joys, fears and, perhaps, even our future.
So when Sue woke up last night at 3:23 a.m. feeling as if she’d just popped out of a virtual reality show, she knew what she had to do.
She waited impatiently until the bank opened at 9. Continue reading