When the cop stops her, Janine does her best to appear calm. Unworried.
She presses the button slowly so her driver’s side window slides open as if Janine has all the time in the world.
The policeman is big, burly, and surly.
“Crap,” Janine mutters.
Janine wills her hands to not shake as she pulls her wallet out of her purse and finds the fake ID. Continue reading
The rain falls so hard the trees appear to be weeping. I stand on the steep sidewalk waiting for the school bus, hair frizzing into tight curls but mouth curled up in a sweet grandmotherly smile.
My grandson turns seven today, and I’m determined to help him celebrate. Continue reading
We all heard the piercing ding at the same time.
Which is saying something, since over 20,000 of us – women of all sizes, shapes, colors, ages – were gathered at Boston’s Charles Street to begin the Women for Health 10K run.
Joanne elbowed me as we stood side-by-side waiting for the starting gun to go off. “Do you see what I see?” she asked, staring down at her phone. Continue reading
She experienced a strange sensation – one of light-headedness and a touch of nausea while at the same time feeling euphoric and frightened.
The combined emotions were oddly fascinating, and Sheila wondered vaguely if this is what it felt like to be tripping on a drug like LSD. But she looked around and acknowledged that she hadn’t moved since she stood in the center of the blackened room. She’d taken no pills or drinks. No mysterious fog or vapor filled the small quiet room. Yet, she felt out-of-sorts. Continue reading
I can’t figure out why the stupid key won’t fit into the same lock I’ve used for the past 10 months.
But my key ring contains many keys – the one for the office, the one for the car, the one for the other car, and the one for the mailbox. The key for the house, of course, and the key for the storage room.
But no, I’m using the correct key- it’s the only one that has red tape on it – red tape I placed there so I’d always know which key to use when I arrived at my front door.
But still, it doesn’t fit in a rather, now that I look more closely, misshapen lock. In fact, the doorknob doesn’t even have a lock, per se, but seems more decorative than anything else.
“Oh husband-of-mine!” I shout, probably too loudly. “What did you do?” I smile a bit. I love surprises – this one is a doozy. Continue reading