As the title says, here it goes. A couple of sketches:
The old dog twitched until it spasmed, flat on its side, along from all its friends. Meanwhile other animals in the vicinity reeled at the sight. It was afternoon, the sun rocketing into descent. A sigh. A heave. And the creature’s spirit vanished.
When her date handed her her coffee she broadened her lips and made a bashful smile. This calmed the date as he drew back his hand, and stared at the light of her beaming eyes.
I’ve had my laughter pointed out to me more than once. It can be ear-splitting, it can be earthy. It may be feverish, but it is never forced.
A shy knock from a hollow hand sounded on the door. Greta laid aside her children’s-sized booties she was knitting and plodded toward the foyer. She stood on her tiptoes to peer out of the peephole. A wave of morning sickness swept over her. In a paper-thin voice she mumbled through the door, “What do you want, loser?”
Last Halloween they made out for twenty minutes, poring over one another, as everyone else danced around them to hip-hop.
I hate how she rakes me with her eyes, leaves me counting my toes, whenever she steps into the room.
I don’t care who you are, or what you look like: if you lose one parent, the investigation calls it a misfortune and backs off; but when you lose two parents, then a detective’s gotta ask different kinds of questions.
And then my sister ran to the toilet, to pray before the porcelain god. Within minutes she was yawning multicolors. The bad news gave my tummy leaping frogs, like swallowing a gargantuan booger. She wasn’t even going to clean it up, I knew.