Of Two Minds

He begged her to come back and now he’s watching her unpack her suitcase. He knows that she isn’t going to stay. She’s the sort of woman who never stays. She’s the sort of woman who has a purple hairdryer, peach-scented lotion, and coconut shampoo. Who does she think she is? A movie star? Her underpants are black, red, green, and blue, because she’s fickle. She can’t choose just one color. Everything in the suitcase is evidence of her inconstancy. A pair of roller skates is the last straw. This is insanity, he thinks. I will tell her to leave.

From Guest Contributor Alice Brigance

Duty And Thoughts Of Alisen

A sweep of peach graced the western sky...maybe. Sleep deprived, he couldn’t really be sure. Vision might be compromised, eyes too bloodshot to discern the ambiguous purity of grey dragging the downpour along the horizon.

And the windows were filthy.

Sunday eyed him from the corner, placid gaze sharpening as her head rose from his Nike, quasi-spaghetti dangling from open maw.

He identified with the drool-laden laces.

“Curious passion,” he said, observing the dog...but thinking of Alisen.

Sunday growled, mouthing the trainer, front paws tensed and backside hoisted by her wagging tail. Play and a walk.

Duty called.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid