Standing In My Shoes
I’m standing in the basement staring at my wedding shoes, just trying to find the girl who stood in them before. There’s so much I want to ask her,
We’ve moved into a new house. It’s our seventh home, and our first with a basement. We threw all the “junk” down there. A week ago we piled in the boxes, bins, and disused things –
Katy's List ~ Questions for Reflection and Discussion
Dear Reader, The following content contains SPOILERS for the short story Katy's List. If you haven't already read it, it's roughy a ten minute read and can be found here...
From the shaded porch I can just make out the grassy area beyond the garden where Katy is waitin on me. Later I'll walk down, but I want to finish my coffee and sit a while longer and figure what I might say. She'd hate that I was thinkin on it. She'd smile and hold her short, pink nail against my lips.
You Say Potato, I say... Tortilla de Patatas (but i might be drunk)
Step 1 - Make an enourmous batch of Sangria. (Preferably enough to get an entire football team drunk.) Spanish fútbol though, because I'm talking about Spanish tortilla, which incidentally, has nothing to do with tortillas made of corn or flour, which I admit is terribly confusing but in Spain a torta is cake and a little torta is a tortilla, see? And the thing I'm talking about is a— drumroll please...
I slip down to the basement, to try and catch the light, and find her basking on the wall, but paler than her youthful bright.