Lawyer, writer, traveler. Launched the Traynor's World young adult series in 2020 (www.traynorsworld.com).
“Estela.” It means star. Her face shines like a star, framed by lustrous black hair, pulled back now in a ponytail. Her smile, even in daylight … that shines, too, when something delights her. It’s a flash of white teeth, an intriguing curve of lips (slightly higher on the left side), and a quick hint of dimples. Perfect.
By the time Milo got to the door, the package was there but the man who delivered it was already gone. The package was wrapped in brown paper, which was unusual, and it didn’t have any familiar labels or markings. No postal service logo. No Amazon smile.
The Bluest App
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” “It’s an app.” “I can see that. Some kinda game? Tunes? But you ain’t got no earbuds for that sorry-ass celly of yours.”
I cry out, but as usual they are implacable. I struggle against the restraints, but as usual it does no good. The drugs are too strong. They are too strong. They say something to each other in their language, and one of them speaks to me in her heavily accented attempt at English:
Little Black Book
“It’s a great idea, Chau. But you probably couldn’t get it patented. And it wouldn’t work just to go for protection in the US, because most of the textiles it would be used for are produced overseas. Best try to sell your idea to an established manufacturer.”
I never got the hang of sport. Clumsy, left-handed, preoccupied with cares at home, and, as a youth, far too small to play anything well.
Missing you again
The ice glares white from Greenland twenty thousand feet below; Again I’m midway somewhere you are not. The sky’s a rare forever blue . . .
I love you even when
Loving you in sunshine is no art; you have taught me what I know of joy. But you should know I love you even when . . .