Only dish-washing was available but he needed the summer job. He wanted to meet her.
So what if she was on exchange too? Or that she might think him a nobody?
A lifetime together was worth that summer of dishes, even if she wanted him to always be their dishwasher.
Joey doesn’t mind washing the dishes as long as she recognizes his cooking as a sign of affection rather than treating it as convenient “free food”. Either way, you can visit him at joeytoey.com
“I’ll take her around,” volunteered little Jayati, wheeling the spastic Anna out. Ten years separated the two.
“She, too, yearns for your love,” commented my wife.
At bed time, I explained why Anna needed more care. “She’s a ‘special’ child,” I said.
“I also want to be ‘special’,” Jayati replied.
Vijai Pant is a language teacher in a school in India. He is also a freelance writer.
Sometimes I feel like you’re watching over me from wherever you are.
Sometimes I believe you love me still.
Sometimes the sun reminds me of your sweet caress,
And the moon of your deep, enduring passion.
Sometimes I realize it’s all an illusion and you are
Connie Taylor is an Operations Manager by day, a writer and reader by night. Her writing aspirations began in grade school with her heroine, Pantoulia, who leaped over football fields of fire. She’s contributed to the Journal of Integrated Studies and enjoys writing both fiction and non-fiction.
He carried me over the threshold. That, in itself, was not an easy task.
I should have loved him for that alone, but I always wanted more.
“You missed a spot.” I twirled the just-washed glass around in the sunlight.
He reached to take it, but I smiled. “Let me.”
Susan Gale Wickes hails from the Midwest. She likes writing and daydreaming about where it might lead.
Winds gust and panes quake as rain pounds the glass and creeps in through a cracked seal. It pools on the sill beside me, taking—of all forms—that of a heart.
That’s right, I remember. There’s such a thing as “the heart of the storm.”
But it’s always cold.
EO hopes that the next Goliath storm bound for the northeast gets lazy and simply opts to send a postcard instead.
“That’s the girl I’m going to marry,” he said, pointing down the hall. His friends dared him to approach, ask her simply for a date.
“You’re cute, but I already have a dog,” said she, in reply to his awkward entreaty.
Right he was. The two were married forty-seven years.
Anita Reynolds is a writer and artist, wife and mom in the rural reaches of Tennessee. Her work is inspired by the strangeness of life, from the mundane to the magical.
If I hadn’t woken up late. If the guy hadn’t spilled his coffee. If I hadn’t had to go back and change. If I hadn’t missed my train. If life wasn’t so unpredictable…
I wouldn’t have met you. You wouldn’t have noticed me. We would never have fallen in love.
Bella Ren is an English student from Brazil. She loves writing and reading English short stories and poetry.
Her blue eyes looked down into his brown ones. His brown hand grabbed her peach finger.
They were complete opposites, but that didn’t matter to either of them. Perfect matches weren’t based on color: eyes, skin, hair. This was a perfect match.
“Welcome home,” said the foster mom.
Melanie Gabbard is a mother of four: one biological, three adopted from foster care. She won a short story competition with Writer’s Digest and wrote a short screenplay that was adapted for film.
I fell in love rapidly,
with a strong, sweet, chivalrous man.
You adored me then…
before the breakdown.
It took you away. I understand.
I’m not the same so you’re not the same man.
I patiently await your return.
I’ll never give up.
Please! We can fall in love again.
April is a hopeless romantic, even in hard times. Life equals love.
Cuddling that bright morning. Our relationship
had been called lovingkindness by Buddha himself
one ancient morning as the Morningstar appeared.
Like enlightenment, her eyes flashed,
kidneys failing: her urine ran clear like water.
My startled response frightened her.
Yet her eyes said, it’s okay,
see you next time my love.
Matthew lives in Maine. He still remembers the day his son called from school. His student teacher had brought three kittens in a cardboard box from her dorm. “Please, can I bring one home?”