Here’s a very short story of suburban dystopia for all those parents who hate play dates.
Me: So how’s your day going? You tired? Did you eat well here or no? The Fly: Humans have no idea just how filthy their houses are. I’ll be living out the rest of my life here, Lady. Your house is a paradise. Me: How come you aren’t in the kitchen with the other flies?
Not long ago, I shared that I had gone to the used bookstore and brought home a new bundle of book babies. They’ve been getting cozy, and now I’d like to show them to you all. I have one or two copies of Robinson Crusoe already, but I couldn’t resist the raised texture of the
And then I smile at her. And for the past two mornings, she has stared me straight in the eye and not so much as twitched a phony smile. It’s the oddest thing. I’ll try one more time tomorrow.
Imagine this scene. You’ve had a long day. You are late to work as usual and looking to score some coffee. You’re willing to risk the walk of shame to get it. Lauryn at the front desk will give you the eye; your supervisor will glance down at her watch, sending a surefire signal that she
Here’s a scene: Demetrius comes out of his mid-sized hut to find something wrong. He had paid Henry to fix this problem. And now here it is rearing its dumb ugly head in his front yard. Everyone thought that Henry was a man with common sense. That’s why he had hired him. He was wrong,