by cables and springs. You may safely ignore his other work.
I’m trying to round up people who are willing to help my mother with a leisurely move on the price of pizza, beer, and appreciation.
She’s rented a van from 6 o’clock Friday morning to 6 o’clock Saturday morning. We won’t be moving boxes upon boxes, more just pieces of large furniture that she and I can’t move alone. I know it’s ill-timing, what with the plans to meet here for a movie than night-market, but I’m hoping people might still have the morning free.
Wal-Mart staff ordered to search store after bomb threat.
I did not mean to slam the door. Technically, true. I didn’t mean for it to be painful once I had done so either, the first link in a chain reaction of breaking down shaking in my kitchen, almost crying on my roommate, who wanted to know what was wrong. Usually I am better than that. I hold onto myself. I am polite. I keep to myself and swallow extraneous reactions. Feeling anything is risky, it’s true. Feelings have been nothing but a useless simmering frustration for a few years. There have been no rewards that were not false, no punishments that mercifully ceased. The heart as a holding pattern, understanding that there is no space to land. Dead air. Static. I did not mean to slam the door, but for my sake, I should have done so harder, I have not slammed a door in years. When I was a child, I would shake hotels and houses equally with the force of impact, wood in wood frame. My only vengeful outlet, because otherwise I am quiet, refusing to offer what is not asked and hating that no one dares.