Series
Above From Below Part 8
After many shots, and several beers, Andrea and Rick headed back to their hotel. Rick had opened up to Andrea. She now understood the ghosts, and why he wsarned her that he wasn't someone to get too close to. Still, she trusted Rick, at least as much as she trusted anyone else. Under any other circumstances, she might have considered making a move on him, but as much as he opened up, she could tell Rick was still holding back.
By Jason Morton7 months ago in Fiction
Above From Below Part 8
As Rick and Andrea sped away from the Observatory, keeping his lights off to stay hidden in the dark of night, Rick heard the information he briefly gleemed from the computer as the words rattled around in his head. He didn't understand what he'd seen fully, but knew that the classified stamp that had been entered on the files meant it was likely what got Nico killed. That they hadn't secured the files better meant they didn't know about him. The connection between him and Nico hadn't been found. How though, had Andrea found the tie?
By Jason Morton7 months ago in Fiction
Above From Below Part 7
Rick held his hand up, his fingers clenched into a fist, warning Andrea to hold. They were along side the building, working their way toward the back door to the complex, and Rick heard a noise. The technician they'd watched smoke two other cigarettes in an hour was at it again. Rick leaned back, and told Andrea about "Smokey the Bear," and cautioned her to wait. But, as they were on a clock, Andrea had other ideas.
By Jason Morton7 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
Later, as the night deepened and the lights dimmed to a warm amber glow, Peter found himself seated at a round table with Maya, who had once been his lab partner in chemistry. Their conversation drifted from the trivial to the profound, punctuated by the soft whoosh of their masks as they inhaled and exhaled. “Do you ever wonder how different things would have been if we hadn’t had to wear masks?” Maya asked, her voice tinged with melancholy. Peter considered the question, his gaze lingering on the faint reflection of the chandelier in his mask’s surface. “Maybe,” he replied, “but perhaps the masks forced us to listen more, to see past the smiles and focus on the words.” Their exchange was a quiet testament to how a simple piece of protective equipment could cultivate deeper empathy among old friends.
By Forest Green7 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
The gymnasium of Lincoln High had been transformed overnight into a glittering ballroom of nostalgia, its faded banners swapped for string lights and a makeshift DJ booth that hummed beneath a ceiling of suspended lanterns. Peter and Scott arrived together, each wearing a sleek, dark‑tinted protective mask that clung snugly to the contours of their faces, the little vents whispering faintly as they breathed. The masks, a relic of the recent pandemic and a newfound habit of personal safety, reflected the soft colors of the décor, turning their expressions into a subtle, futuristic masquerade. As they stepped onto the polished floor, the familiar scent of cheap gym floor wax mingled with the sweet perfume of fresh flowers, and the low murmur of old classmates—now scattered across careers and continents—began to swell into a chorus of eager greetings.
By Forest Green7 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
“I imagined you two still together, or at least that there’d be tension. Seeing you here, both of you, just… being civil, changes that picture.” He glanced at the wall where a banner read “Class of ’01 – 20 Years Later,” the bold letters emphasizing how far they’d all traveled from the cramped hallways of their high school. “If you’re both fine, then maybe the past isn’t something we need to cling to. Maybe it’s just… a chapter we can read
By Forest Green7 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
Marc stood at the entrance of the gymnasium, his face half‑concealed behind a sleek, navy‑blue N95 mask that the new city ordinance demanded for any indoor gathering. The hum of chatter was punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses, and the scent of stale pizza drifted from the catering table. He glanced around, noting the familiar rows of folding chairs that once held the senior class of ‘01, now repurposed for alumni who’d traded textbooks for mortgages. “I guess we’re all just playing dress‑up these days,” he muttered to himself, feeling the rubber strap tug at his ears. The mask made his smile appear as a thin line, but his eyes scanned the crowd for familiar faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people he’d left behind when he and Emily moved to another city upstate before lockdown.
By Forest Green7 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '21
The hallway buzzed with the low hum of lockers slamming and the soft rustle of backpacks, but the most conspicuous feature of the day was the sea of masks that turned every familiar face into a muted silhouette. The school’s new health ordinance, enacted after a spate of seasonal illnesses, required every student to wear a protective covering that filtered breath and muffled speech, turning ordinary greetings into barely audible “hey” and “what’s up?” whispered through fabric. Posters plastered on the bulletin boards reminded everyone, “Keep a six‑foot radius and stay masked at all times,” and the principal’s voice crackled over the intercom each morning, reiterating the rules with a tone that blended authority and reassurance. Even the teachers, their own masks patterned with whimsical cartoons, moved from class to class with the same cautious choreography, stepping lightly and waving their gloved hands to signal “good morning” without breaking the invisible barrier that now defined social interaction.
By Forest Green7 months ago in Fiction
