“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
Even Janine is surprised when the trunk’s contents move with a big thump, but then she supposes that too many of them were placed rather haphazardly. After all, she practically threw them in, racing to her first destination. (see What’s in the Trunk).
The smoke has dissipated. The policeman looks as baffled as a man working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. A puzzle in the shape of books – dozens of books – piled together as if they’ve been kidnapped, or as if they have some nefarious reason for hiding in the trunk of Janine’s car. Continue reading
The classical music wakes me slowly. Mozart’s Piano Concerto “Romanze,” I muse drowsily as I stretch my limbs.
Mozart’s music changes to Beethoven, and I consider stretching more heartily during my soft music alarm.
My toe reaches out under the sheets, leg muscles tight but loosening. Ahhhh.
ACK! What did my toe just hit? Continue reading
Nina climbed aboard the Acela, holding her overnight bag as well as the floral valise the stranger handed her before he took off in a rush. (At the Station)
She didn’t gasp until she sat down and opened the small case.
Why? Why now? Nina wondered as she stared at the photo inside the bag.
Nina stood on one foot, and then the other. The train was three minutes late. She could not afford to miss one second of the project meeting in New York.
Knowing that the regular train sometimes got stuck at some godforsaken station on the way, she purchased a ticket for the more expensive high-speed Acela, which gave her an hour fudge time.
Peering at the watch on her wrist, she figured she now only had 55 minutes of fudge time. Continue reading
