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When Sarah Met Clyve, Part 3

[You can read part 1 of this story here, and part 2 here.]

What-have-I-done?  What-have-I-done?  What-have-I-done?

Clyve teetered on the spot and…THUD.

Cheesecake

When she called with the news, I felt helpless. Here I was delighting in discovering my new hometown – a place with art, and architecture, and music, and tourists – and my friend was hurting, miles away. She had suffered one of those losses for which words are useless, and physical gestures are the primary means through which you can show your support. Hugs. A prepared meal. Comfortable silence. All things you can’t do from across the country.

I considered sending flowers, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t Valentine’s day, and she had never been one for flowers. Flowers die. Giving her loss after The Loss would be like shining a spotlight on the emotional ripples that would flow from this event over the next weeks.

When Sarah Met Clyve, Part 2

You can read part 1 of this story here.

Sarah rolled over, curling into Clyve’s ever-present warmth.  She suspected that he’d found some dizzy, unnatural means of fending off the cold to better survive the winter nights of Washington, DC’s lonelier park benches.  He gave off heat the way a cat or a space heater did.  Lots better though.

captain jack's discovery

Hello. I am Captain Jack, and I am a man of both science and leisure. Please do not limit your opinion of my character me to either of these categories, as both principles are equally important to my life’s pursuits.

peanut butter al fresco

Once a week, I have a private French lesson with the most lovely Belgian woman. She's very calm, civilized and pleasant.

Last week when we had our lesson, Madame and I were chatting in the living room while my son Jack played on the back porch. I'd left the door open so he could wander in and out and tell us all about his various exploits out there. Jack is not quite two years old, so these little updates consisted mostly of him charging into the living room with something in his hand, gabbling loudly and happily about it and running back out with great pride. In the nude.

First-Line Friday (returns)

As Celia riffled through the box of items her Great Aunt Merkindra had left her, she suddenly jerked her hand back in shock at what she'd just encountered.

Now your turn! E-mail us your story at gzorkme@gmail.com, and you may see it here on Tuesday!