The bus screeched to a halt in front of Hambre Town Hall. “End of the line, folks,” announced the driver, flinging open the entry door. Lucy uncoiled from her seat, groaned and stretched. Her back crackled and popped as she stood up, releasing the tension of 23 hours folded into four different bus seats. She shouldered her pack and trooped down the aisle, giving the driver a bleary nod before tripping down the steps.
ronica as she rushed by with a slice of carrot cake. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Zeke commented to the bar-stool population-at-large. He tamped grounds into the portafilter, locked it into place, and pulled a shot.
An old man glanced furtively from side to side, then stumped across the hallway. The wheels on his walker squeaked across gray linoleum. He reached the door marked “utility closet” and rapped twice, paused, then knocked three times. He waited. He glanced left and right, muttered something under his breath, and lifted his hand to knock again.
he table, gulping OJ and squirting lime juice onto a 1-inch-high stack of sugared crepes.
She put her hand on Miss Dorman’s desk. It felt cool and smooth. Her skin left sweat marks where it touched. The ruler whistled down. Whap! Whap!
Rain sheeted down, wetting the window panes. On the street outside, cars splashed through puddles. It was a melancholy day. A day for sitting fireside with tea and books and company. But she had no fireplace or chimney, no logs to burn. Her house was too dark and quiet to be cheery.
My name is Galaxy Fiona Adonis and I was born with the superpower of laughter.
“What’s the commotion?” Agnes Whittaker called out. First the party line went off. Then Tim, the neighbor boy, shot out of his front door, his face the color of baking soda. He hopped on his bike and pedaled furiously down the sidewalk. At the sound of her voice, he skidded to a halt a few feet shy of the porch.
Every morning Richard Chan sat down to a plate brimming with sausages and beet slices and a 1 liter jug of Turkish coffee. He ate while reading the newspaper. As he read, his complexion grew more and more mottled and his breathing heavier.
Mom dropped the bombshell at breakfast. “We’re thinking about going to Puerto Rico for the summer.”