ENG 125- Creative Writing portfolio fall 2011

8/3/2019 ENG 125- Creative Writing portfolio fall 2011

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particles

we walk past crumbling gravestones:memorabilia of the past.i count the dead and know,

we are not young.

we step gingerly across boundariesand climate changes;we do not exist as one.

like sandcastles abandonedon the cold beaches of september,well close our doors and keep themlocked but even trapdoors andmoats with imaginary monsters

cant keep the silence away.

march on toward the eastand speak with a clatter.you know how i always lovedthe way you talked to strangers.

ive been misspelling wordsi never meant to writeand i am tiredof dropping things behind my bed.

you called me reckless butim onlysmoking in between classesand while i watch you drink.

dizzy.


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smile, darling.itsonly appearances were keeping.flip the switch but dont thinkyoure the one in control.

you see,id spell out your name in the placewhere my ribcage encloses my heart.id take a paper cut to my tongueif it meant you wouldnt have to.id drive for miles and miles on an empty stomachif it would make you feel alive again.and id break my wrist into your walls,if it would make any difference at all.

but well never be the ones

to pull this monument to its kneesand grind it to dust beneath our feet.

keep your receipts,return your candles to the store.were not celebrating tonight.the streamers fell down and the rainmixes with the dirt on our facesas we turn to mud. our balloonsare lacking helium. without hope,we float silently downward.

like the childhood memories left betweenthe threads of your living room carpet.ashes to ashes, we all fall down.

so when it gets to be too muchlie down on your couch and find me,hiding beneath your cushions.between cookie crumbs and plastic wrappersand stale memories, thats where ill be.

im not waiting for you, i swear.but theres nothing better to dowith my time.

remember me.


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when morning comes, it will wash us away.

just promise to let go

and well be like the ocean waves.


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board up your windows.

I could hold you and I in a mason jar

like fireflies on a summer night,

but the difference between us and them is

we dont light up the night skies

like blinking constellations.

ever changing, ever moving

against the dark green of the grass

and the sky line and the trees.

we are fragile

and if I drop this jar we will break

and flood the horizon

with regret and used tissues and

broken signals where our wires crossed.

maybe people should come with warning lights.

Ill tell you straight,

Im a liar and a thief

and I will take everything

from you while you sit on the bed

and call my name.

because I swear, Im like a hurricane.

you thought you were a

natural disaster

but you should see the wake


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I leave behind.

I only destroyed you because you let me.


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dirty hair days

three good days later Im stillscared one day Ill turn the keyin the ignition and drive

until the sheets of metalcollide and produce sparksas the air bag hurls itselfat my face and you hearsirens in the distance.

i walk past the destruction anddont shed a single tear.

dont assumeeverything you read is true,

youll watch mebecome like all the rest.

eighteen candles lateri sat on my bed and criedfor i was no longera child. some thingsyou have to move on from,like sugar spilt carelessly on yourkitchen counter. wipe it up.throw it away.

its not my fault i was someoneyou could marry but never love.it was like you were the reflectionson rain-splashed pavementat sunset,always clearer from a distance.


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we look for constellations.

He whispered beneath his breath, if day has to become night, this is a beautiful

way

I recognized it from 11th grade English: E. E. Cummings. He was thinking, I was

dreaming. Our heads lay very close to one another in the dim light; close but not quite

touching. Our fingers crept towards each other and slowly interlocked. I smiled, cherishing

the feeling of the grass beneath the picnic blanket, the warm-but-not-too-warm late

summer air at dusk. There was a cool breeze and the fireflies buzzed around us.

It was quiet but not silent when his voice interrupted our peace once more. Which is

more beautiful? Sunrise or sunset? It was a peculiar question, but most things he said were

peculiar and I was slowly getting used to it. It was one of the many things I loved about

him, most of the time.

Why do I have to choose? I asked the obvious.

Because there is only one right answer. He looked at me funny, with this playful grin

on his face.

Ahh. I drew out the word with sarcasm, rolled my eyes, and sat up for a moment,


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thinking. Things were never grey with Todd, they were always black and white.

I told him this once but he just looked annoyed and told me I didnt know the

difference between black and white and grey, thats why I didnt understand. I thought back

to that moment. I did understand, more than he knew. But I hadnt known how to say it and

I didnt want him to be upset with me, so I took his hand, kissed him slowly, and said

goodnight. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that night.

I turned and looked at him for a moment, thinking. I guess I took a little too long to

answer. He sounded impatient as he sat up and said, The answer is sunsets. The sun never

goes down without a fight, thats why it streaks the sky with red and purple, and when the

darkness smothers it at last, it leaves a glimmer of hope hidden in the stars, to remind us

that the sun rises again with the morning.

Oh.

Well, sure it was beautiful. But I didnt care. It was a bunch of bullshit. He never cared

about my answer, he was just testing me. He didnt care what I though of sunrises or

sunsets. Todd was always obsessed with being a genius and his only goal now was to

impress. But I was not impressed.


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I sat silent for a moment, thinking before I spoke.

That was beautiful.

I guess I always was a people pleaser.

He sat there, enjoying his brilliance, or maybe wishing I had said more, wishing I had

said something different, wishing I had been more intelligent, wishing I was more,

something, I dont know. He never told me.

I tried. I tried for him. But I was tired of waiting, ofkeeping quiet. I couldnt keep my

mouth shut so I just started spitting out words.

I dont know. Its like this big joke or whatever. The stars are just up there and people

think theyre this symbol of hope or something and they are, I guess. But its just so funny,

I laughed and turned to look at him. We made eye contact and he looked away; I could feel

him drifting.

I spoke faster, Its so funny, because these people, they look up at them and feel

small or feel infinite or feel wonder or awe or just feel something but really the stars are just

burning bits of dust and matter suspended in the galaxy. They hold no power over us or

our world or our choices.


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He was quiet and I could feel I was losing him.

I wished I hadnt spoken. I just, I couldnt stop. I just, I really was just thinking about it.

I really was just wondering. I really just wanted to tell him. I really just wanted him to be

excited with me, for me. I really just wanted him to agree with me, or disagree with me, to

have an opinion, to turn to me eagerly and say, Yeah!or Brianna, what the fuck? or just

say something, anything at all. I could feel my heart beat pick up as the panic set in. I

needed him to say something. And maybe just needed him to love me. Love me for that, for

nothing at all, just for the sake of loving me, or for loving someone. I dont know. I couldnt

breathe. Sometimes it was like the distance just got to me.

He thought for a moment, I guess. I think he was frustrated.

Whatever. He shrugged and turned back to stare up at the stars.

I watched him for a moment until my breathing slowed and I was startled by a drop of

water hitting my cheek. I wiped at it and realized I was crying. I turned to look at him for a

moment before my vision blurred. He continued to look for connections in the stars that we

could never find.

I turned away angrily.


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I guess he heard me because he turned and put his arm around me, pulled me closer.

He rested his chin in my neck and silently we cried; we were alone.

My mind drifted back to the stars in the night sky above us. I wondered how silly we

looked to them. Did they look down on us like we look up at them? I wondered if they

laughed at us. I wondered if one day they hoped to be as beautiful and perfectly screwed

up as we were. And I wondered if you took a pen and connected the dots, what kind of

constellation did we make? But this time I kept quiet and it was okay, because I could feel

Todds pulse, just slightly against my back bone. I took a deep breath and promised myself

Id never forget these moments, these seconds; those are the ones that make a difference.

Everything was finally still when my stomach began to violently protest its lack of

proper nourishment. We laughed for a moment and Todd asked, Food?

I am thinking food is most definitely a plan.

Todd stood and helped me up, laughing and as we walked to the car I looked up and gave

my middle finger to the night sky but the clouds had moved and covered up our pictures.

I shook my head and opened the passenger door.


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Marlboro

Annabelle drove around for two weeks with a pack of cigarettes hidden in the

glove compartment of her car.

She thought about if briefly as she walked to class Tuesday morning. She thought

about it again when she passed drug store on her way to work. She thought about it

again when her coworker took his smoke break. And she considered it once more when

she came home to her mother standing in the kitchen over a hot stove, making stir fry or

scrambled eggs or something else you make in a pan. She was wearing her favorite dull

punk and ivory polka dot underwear and a cut up Rolling Stones tee shirt, he hair in a

messy bun and dirty blonde, unwashed curls falling all over the place, makeup smeared

around her eyes, and a cigarette in her mouth.


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Heather, Im home.

Since Heathers 40th birthday she had insisted on being called by her real name.

Apparently mom made her feel old. Annabelle paused for a moment, her head tilted

slightly waiting for a reply. The music was loud and her mother didnt seem to notice

anything else, whispering the words to herself, something by Stevie Nicks, Annabelle

supposed. She shook her head and took the steps, two at a time, to her bedroom which

was oddly very sharp and square and light blue, even though Annabelle hated squares

and light blue and well, being home at all. But she did love her mother, despite

Heathers love of cigarettes and polka dot underwear and classic rock n roll. And

Heather, despite her hate for motherly expectations and duties, loved it when Annabelle

came home every once in a while.

Annabelle put the idea of smoking away on a shelf among other dusty ideas of

travel and careers that did not involve cleaning toilets and rooms that were not square.

She spent a few moments studying and finishing up assignments, read a few chapters

in a book many important people said was worth reading and went to bed without taking

her contacts out.

Annabelle woke up Wednesday morning from a dream in which she became a

rather successful artist who many people respected and admired but died at age 42

because she had nothing left to offer the world.

She shrugged off the dream and made herself a cup of coffee. At 7:30, she took a

shower and at 7:45, she went to wake her mother. At 8, Annabelle filled in her invisible

blonde eyebrows to match her dark, shoulder length hair and decided today would be a

nice day to wear her orange glasses. At 8:15, she made toast with jam and went to


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wake her mother again. At 8:30, she packed her school books and pulled the covers off

of her mothers bed. At 8:45, Annabelle left the house, her mother only half awake and

smoking a cigarette on the couch and at 9, Annabelle barely made it to her French class

on time.

At 9:55, Annabelle ran into Bailey, whose lively green eyes seemed to mock her

own dark blue ones. They chatted for a moment and told each other it had been too

long, they needed to catch up, like most girls do. At 9:57, Heather texted her that they

should have a date night and at 9:58, Annabelle read the text and rolled her eyes but

replied that a date night would be wonderful.

At 10:02, Annabelle walked into her world history class, greeted by a dirty look

from her professor who seemed to be as old as the history he was teaching. At 10:37,

she woke up to a kick from a classmate and it took her a moment to figure out where

she was. At 10:51, she bought an overpriced water bottle from the school vending

machines and at 10:56, she walked into her biology class, thankful that it was her last

one. At 12, Annabelle rubbed her stomach, realizing it was lunch time.

Annabelle ignored the hunger, bought a large black coffee on her way home, and

sat on the couch reading for a few moments of peace before heading to work. After a

few chapters, Annabelle stood and surveyed the wreck her mother had left. Annabelle

assumed she made it to work on time as there was no sign of her and the car was no

longer in the driveway. Annabelle picked up the trash, straightened the cushions on the

couch, and paused for a moment to wonder why; no one was coming. She shrugged

and put on her work clothes.

At 2, Annabelle clocked in and put on a smile. She smiled sympathetically when


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the customers complained about the food and apologetically when they complained

about the seating. She looked confused and compassionate when they whined about

the service. She offered to turn down the music or change the TV channel when they

mentioned it. At 9, Annabelles boss called her into his office.

My moms here. Annabelle stepped quickly out of the restaurant and into her

mothers car, breathing a sigh of relief.

They went to a cutesy cafe where all the cool people hung out but neither of them

were hungry. Annabelle ordered another straight black coffee and a glass of water and

Heather ordered a chai latte with a double shot of espresso. They sat and chatted and

consumed caffeine together and for a moment, they pretended to be a normal family.

Just this once, Annabelle smiled and it was genuine.

So. . . Heather was acting nervous but she was almost always nervous, it

seemed and Annabelle was used to it. Hows school going?

Alright, I guess. Its school.

Well, thats good, I suppose.

Annabelle nodded. Can we not talk about school?

Oh! Yeah, of course. Heather looked down and fiddled with her keys.

Have you spoken with Grandma lately? Hows she doing? Heather scowled and

scooped the whip cream off her chai latte.

She left a message a couple days ago. I havent talked to her yet though. She

seemed fine. She said the doctors said everything was healing up nicely and she

should be on track for a quick and easy recovery.

Annabelle nodded again and suggested, Maybe we should go see her this


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weekend. You have Saturday off, right?

Heather sighed. Yeah, I guess.

Well, dont sound so excited.

Heather laughed and Annabelle smiled. Come on, welljust bring her some tea,

catch up. Ill do most of the talking, if you like. Itll be pleasant, just a short visit and then

you can go home and sleep or do whatever it is you do. Shes your mother. You cant

just ignore her.

Heather shook her head. Annabelle, what would we do without you?

Annabelle just sipped her coffee and smiled.

Heather picked out two fancy beers from the cutesy cafe before they left and took

Annabelle to get her car from work.

It was late so Annabelle drove slowly, counting the pairs of headlights as they

passed. Her head was hurting and she grew more drowsy thinking of the things she had

to do that night. She seemed to catch every red light she passed. As she pressed more

firmly on the brake she glanced over at the glove compartment, thinking for a moment of

what was hidden there. Some old papers, a little emergency cash, a book she never

quite finished, a pack of Marlboro lights, and her old lighter. The light turned green and

she drove a little faster.

When Annabelle got home, Heather was sitting on the couch smoking, drinking

one of the beers she bought from the cafe. She smiled at Annabelle and handed her the

other one, a finger pressed against her lips. Annabelle smiled and thought there were

some benefits to not having a normal family after all. She took the beer and her book

bag upstairs where she thought about the cigarettes again. She thought back to the day


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she started smoking. She first stole a pack of cigarettes from her mother when she was

12 on a dare. She had no plans to smoke them, just to hide them. She couldnt

remember why or exactly what it was that made her try them, it just happened.

Someone had dropped a lighter and it was all too convenient with the pack hidden in

her purse.

Someone - her heath class teacher, her psychiatrist, her counselor, her principal,

her best friend maybe - had convinced her to stop at age 15. She printed off pictures of

cancerous lungs and tumors and ads from anti-smoking campaigns with other graphic

images and posted them all over her walls and stuffed them in her bags. She stayed

away from friends that smoked and stopped buying cigarettes. But here she was at 19,

wondering if it was worth it.

Annabelle finished her homework, listened to music, and went to sleep without

setting an alarm. As she drifted off to dreamland, Annabelle dreamt she came upon a

scene in her attic with all her paints strewn across the floor and an older version of

herself standing on the windowsill.

The phone rang, startling her from the dream. Annabelle groped around under her

pillow for it and put it to her ear, her eyes still closed.

Hello?

I wasnt kidding when I said we needed to catch up! Bailey practically yelled in

Annabelles still half-asleep ear.

Annabelle squinted at the clock on her table: 6:30. I didnt think you meant so

soon. And by soon, I mean early.

Whats the use in procrastinating? Get up, take a shower, and meet me at the pier


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in an hour!

I have class at 12.

Fuck class. Were going to have an adventure.

Annabelle sighed. There was no talking Bailey out of this one.

Which pier?Our pier, silly. Ill see you soon!Annabelle showed up at the pier an hour later, her legs shaking part from

anticipation and part from the bitter cold. She hesitated a moment before getting out of

the car. Her heart was beating faster and her breath was short. She stared at the glove

compartment suspiciously and finally reached in and took out the cigarettes and her old

lighter and shoved them in the bottom of her bag. She got out of the car slowly and

wished she had brought a warmer coat. Bailey ran up and hugged her and Annabelle

didnt want her to let go, partly because it was warm and partly because it was nice.

I have an entire day planned out for us, so I hope youre ready. Bu t first we have

to pick up a few people.

Bailey turned around and skipped toward the car. Annabelle rolled her eyes. She

didnt like many people, especially new people. People had the tendency to complicate

her life and Annabelle preferred to keep her life in neat, predictable little boxes.

Bailey drove like a bat out of hell around sharp corners and blew through stop

lights like every car was waiting to challenge her, asking for a race. Annabelle clutched

the handle on the door and held it till her knuckles turned white. Bailey creaked to a stop

at a stoplight and turned to look at Annabelle, laughing.

Annabelle, you are wound up tight! Loosen up a little! Annabelle tired to smile.

Annie, Im serious! Let go of the door. Right now. Let go. Annabelle loosened her grip


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on the handle and the light turned green. Bailey sped off and Annabelle reached for the

handle once more.

Bailey shook her head. So how are you? Its been entirely too long since we hung

out.

Im alright, just school and work, you know. The usual. What about you?

Im great, actually. But Im worried about you! You just kind of disappeared.

Wheres the excitement in your life? We used to have fun, you know? What happened?

Annabelle just looked at her calmly and Bailey went soft. Hows Heather?

Shes doing alright. She keeps me busy though.

Bailey nodded. Youre so distant lately! Make some time for yourself, for some

fun. Meet some new people, go do some stuff. Spend more time with me! I mean, what

would you do without me in your life? I bet if I hadnt called you this morning, youd have

laid in bed, hating your life until it was time for your class that you didnt plan on going to

anyway. If I hadnt called you, youd end up living by yourself in some old house

surrounded by cats and canvases! Bailey always was one for dramatics.

You make it sound so terrible. Annabelle looked at Bailey and they laughed.

Bailey reached over and squeezed her hand.

They picked up some of Baileys friends who seemed to think a little to o much of

themselves, Annabelle thought, and another thirty minutes later the car was too full of

bodies to legally drive around but they took all the back roads and no one cared.

Annabelle kept meeting eyes with people in the rearview mirrors and it was

unsettling, especially the kid with the grey eyes. She was pretty sure he looked familiar

though she wasnt sure where she had seen him. Annabelle dug through her bag and


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found her favorite red sunglasses. She didnt like things that reflected, like water, glass,

and mirrors.

Bailey took them to a haunted house. Annabelle rolled her eyes. She and Bailey

had already been to every known haunted house in a 10 mile radius back in the glory

days. They usually went a night and got a little tipsy. And here were these girls, already

whining about how scary it would be in broad daylight, at 8 in the morning. The girls

complained and climbed on the boys and the boys just smirked and tried to act cool.

Annabelle wondered if it was true, the things mothers said about your eyes getting stuck

if you rolled them too much.

They ventured into the woods and towards a rickety old house that admittedly,

looked promising. Annabelle wasnt sure if shed ever seen this one before, but then

again, there would be some memories she would never remember enough to

appreciate. They stepped inside, Annabelle lagging behind, annoyed at the blonde girl

in front of her who was being especially obnoxious and clingy with the boy beside her.

Annabelle took deep breaths to calm herself but when the first girl shrieked in the

hallway, Annabelle couldnt take anymore. She slipped back out the front door and

walked to the nearest tree, banging her head against its trunk. Her head ached and she

was starting to feel like crying, maybe from the tiredness or maybe the frustration.

Bailey was always unpredictable but Annabelle definitely hadnt expected to be dragged

along with a bunch of snotty people she didnt know and didnt care about. Bailey

probably hadnt even noticed her go missing. Annabelle wished she had stayed in bed.

She sat down with her back against the tree, remembering times when she had

been braver, when she had been fun. What had happened? She and Bailey would


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openly vandalize school property back in high school, go out for midnight walks though

the woods by themselves, go downtown and see how many parties they could crash

before curfew (or before one of them passed out) and how many times had Bailey dared

her to go up to the next man they met, kiss him, and walk away. They always had fun,

they always had stories to tell, and Annabelle didnt remember being such a killjoy.

Haunted houses arent your thing either, eh? Annabelle looked up quickly,

surprised.

No, not particularly. It was the boy with the pretty eyes from the back s eat. She

didnt know what it was but something about him unnerved her. It was like he was trying

to pry open her bones or something and Annabelle didnt like it. He didnt seem like the

rest of them. He was tall, but not too tall, and handsome, but not too handsome either.

He had dark hair, a little too long on the top and combed up, but not in a pretentious

way. His face was scruffy and he wore a simple grey hoodie and a jacket and seemed

to know he looked good, but without taking advantage of the fact.

He looked down and kicked up a couple of leaves, smiling. Im Seth, by the way.

He looked at Annabelle and grinned.

Annabelle, she replied. But you can call me Annie, if you like. He held out a

hand to help her to her feet.

Annie, he said again, as if tasting it, trying it on. I think I like Annabelle, actually.

Ive never met someone with a name like that. Its rather beautiful, actually.

Annabelle looked down, a little embarrassed and felt her cheeks flush red but

fought the feeling.

So howdo you know Bailey? she asked.


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Who was that new chick Bailey brought with her?

Annabelles head snapped up.

Which one?

The snotty one with the dark hair and red lips. Come on, you had to notice. She

hasnt said a word to anyone.

Oh, her. I dont know. I think shes an old friend of Baileys. She seems kind of

weird.

She seems like a bitch to me. Shes not friendly at all, she just sits over thei r with

her nose all stuck up. I mean, really, whats her problem?

Annabelle felt her heart drop.

I didnt think she seemed mean, just quiet maybe. I dont know. Bailey has lots of

weird friends.

I dont know but I mean, really. If you hate everyone that much, just leave. Jesus,

I have no tolerance for people this days. Her voice faded as the girls left the bathroom

and Annabelle felt as if someone had knifed her gut. It was one thing to hold your own

opinions of others and of yourself, but it was entirely different to hear a person,

especially yourself, picked apart by the stranger. Annabelle had thought she was

untouchable before but their words brought her back down to Earth.

Annabelle didnt cry easy but she could feel tears building. Maybe this was why

she had started smoking, she thought. She wiped at her eyes and stepped outside

where the air was fresh but sharp. She could feel her bones shake in the wind, like a

scarecrow or a skeleton or something else that was like a shadow of a person, but she

endured the cold. Anything was better than back inside where too many people in too


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small of an area could lead to too many possible outcomes and her brain couldnt

handle any more stress of not knowing what was going to happen next. Out here, she

knew at any given moment a car would race by, one might turn in, another might pull

out. The door might open and the bell could ring, a car would start, all predictable

outcomes of standing outside a restaurant. What Annabelle didnt expect to see was

Seth standing outside, smoking. The smoke seemed to follow her around, she thought.

Annabelle noticed him glance in her direction and wave and she felt torn between

her need to be alone and her curiosity at this new boy who had just sort of waltzed into

her life this morning and was beginning to occupy her thoughts. She could almost hear

Baileys voice in her head, telling her to take more chances, to get out more, to have

more fun. She told it to shut up and walked towards Seth.

Hey! Whatre you doing out here? he said.

Annabelle laughed, despite herself. I dont know, I think I just hate everyone and

maybe everyone hates me. I dont know. I came out here to hide. What are you doing

out here?

He held up the cigarette. Smoke break.

Annabelle nodded, the nerves coming back. He seemed to notice. So what do

you do? Are you in school or? She nodded. I am for now, just wasting timeanyway. I havent declared a major yet, Im just getting the boring stuff out of the way.

What about you?

Im at the university, pre-med. One day Ill be a doctor, or a specialist, or an

anesthesiologist, I guess.

Oh yeah? What made you want to be a doctor? And please dont say, helping


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people or any of that bullshit.

Seth laughed. No, no. Honestly, you know that show House? Well, if were being

completely honest here, Ive alwaysbeen obsessed with that show and Ive always

wanted to be the next Gregory House. So my parents said I could go to school or I

could get a job. So I thought, hey, maybe Ill go to med school. Il l make my parents

happy, and I get to be smarter than everyone else. It works.

Seriously? House? But hes such an asshole! How can you stand to watch him,

let alone aspire to be like him?

He may be an asshole but hes still a genius. And everyone knows geniuses can

do whatever they want. I want to be a genius so I can do whatever I want. I dont have

any plans to turn into an asshole, I just like the idea that I could.

Youre funny. So, how do you justify smoking then? I mean, youve had to have

read all about it. How do you justify that? Even to yourself?

Seth shook his head. The more I learn about the world, the more I realize it was

designed to kill us. Everything we do is killing us. Its just a matter of time. Every step,

every breath, every drag, every sip, every bite, everything; its killing us. I dont see how

a few cigarettes make that much of a difference. You just pick your poison, really. Some

people choose food, sex, money, whatever. This is mine. He held the cigarette to his

mouth and breathed in deep.

Annabelle nodded slowly, understanding. She had never been one to trust

strangers but this stranger had just put to words something Annabelle had been thinking

her entire life. She sat down on the curb and hunted the pack of cigarettes hidden in the

bottom of her bag. Seth offered her a light and said, That stuff will kill you, you know,


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with a smirk and Annabelle had to smile.

Seth sat down beside her and stared into the highway for a moment, listening to

the passing cars. Annabelle breathed in smoke and thought the almost-quiet was nice,

but no one could leave nice things alone. Seth turned and studied her for a moment,

questioning. He picked up her hair at the ends and looked her in the eye, his head tilted.

Dying your hair kills it, you know. It wasnt a question so much as a statement.

Annabelle felt quietly uncomfortable but also challenged. It made her heart beat

faster so she took his sunglasses off and put them over her own eyes.

Its too late to save it, she shrugged.

They sat on the curb and smoked until 11:27 and at 11:27, Annabelle got up,

thanked Seth and handed him his sunglasses before going inside to tell Bailey she was

leaving. Bailey hugged her at 11:29 and asked her to stay but Annabelle said she had to

work and she had homework and Heather needed her and maybe a few other excuses,

she couldnt remember. At 11:32, Annabelle paid for her coffee and walked to the bus

station, haunted by stormy skies and smoke screens and grey eyes.


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Documents

ENG 125- Creative Writing portfolio fall 2011