Tag: wip
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Lydia Davis’ One
The last bookstore I swung into followed the evacuation of a hundred some individuals from an elevated train. Two friends of mine, one bronze curled and the other clad with her favorite olive color, shuffled between stacks of books while poorly hiding a single coffee and three sour attitudes for the list of exclaimed rules…
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What if I had taken my half eaten Granny Smith along with me?
It could have warned me to pay with my debit rather than credit card long before I wrestled with three separate machines and their burly attendant. My appointment wouldn’t have suffered the radio silence in my tardiness, and my delay wouldn’t have screamed so loudly as I ran into the office puffing my breath. It’s…
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