Mother: We are ALL going to church this Sunday right?
Archives for : Creative Writing
A son and his mother unpack groceries in the kitchen.
Son: But why? I don’t see the point of it.
The Secretary of Defense enters the Oval Office.
The President: Take a seat Gabriel.
Secretary of Defense: Thank you sir.
As Barbara stands in the middle of her backyard, a cool breeze caresses her face, drying the damp spots on her cheeks. It’s dusk in Portland and mildly chilly. Giving the breeze a cold bite. But that bite is mild compared to the bite Barbara felt last night at the realization that the love of her life, Donald, was sleeping around with her widowed neighbor Aksanna.