Shades Of Time

I sat quietly on the exam table pondering my yellow skin. Turning toward the mirror hanging on the wall, I ran my blue fingertips up my slender arm touching the pale face that reflected. Too young for wrinkles I thought. I never liked doctors or hospitals. Maybe that’s why I waited. But after a year of treating my superfluous symptoms, well - it never crossed my mind that it would be too late. That time was limited and colors carried the secret. The doctor wasn’t comforting. My dark brown wide set eyes that glittered with life would soon turn dim. From Guest Contributor Dana Sterner

Dana is a registered nurse and has written for regional and national healthcare magazines and has been a prior contributor to a A Story in 100 Words.

The Manufactured Clarity Of A Warm Bath

Rachel held herself tightly and rehashed all the bitter memories. The water soaked into her skin and she wished the gentle lapping would wash away her regrets and better-left-unsaids. Yet her mood only darkened as the wrinkles formed.

She blamed herself for everything. For the aborted pregnancy, for the bruises on her cheek and back, for the bitterness that forever clung to her. The alternative was too overwhelming, that the world is full of assholes, or that happiness is difficult to acquire and nearly impossible to hold on to.

She'd rather claim the responsibility. At least then there is hope.

Trust Issues

The tears stung as they traveled the well-worn grooves on her cheeks. Susan swore her wrinkles were his fault, her aging caused by all the grief he brought into her life.

The stories, always complicated, always full of unlikely detail, astounded as much for their audacity as for their content. After all this time, why he expected her to believe them seemed the greatest insult of all.

"Why should I keep trusting you when all you do is tell such awful lies?"

"It seems to me that if you really trusted me, it wouldn't matter how bad my lies were."