Kathryn Kornacki
Bio
Stories (1/0)
The Eye
It was a rainy summer evening in New York City, the type that made you feel as though anything could happen. The sound of the cool water hitting the tired, hot pavement, and filling the air with a sort of fog that made everything familiar to you appear in a distorted view almost called for something different or chaotic to happen. It was Penny Lipton’s favorite kind of night. Yes, her name was Penny Lipton and she hated it —it sounded like a brand of boxed tea or the name of a girl down the street who always wore her hair in pigtails. In actuality, Penny did not come remotely close to either of these things. She was short and scraggly and her hair never really did what she wanted it to. Her clothes were always dark and the only bright thing about her was the random streak of color in her hair — it was her own act of rebellion against its constant need to fight being tame. Currently it was purple, and would change at any given moment for no particular reason or purpose.
By Kathryn Kornacki3 years ago in Journal