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Tales of a Friendzoned Night of Champagne
“Here’s to a fun night!” she raises her glass. But the only thing he raises in response is an eyebrow. Studying the bottle now planted on the table, he tightens his lips, holding back a laugh. “What’s the matter?” she asks. “You wanna walk around with that?” Puzzled, she glances at the bottle and right back at him. “It’s legal…” “Cheap champagne? It should be illegal.” “Your vodka isn’t all that either,” she refutes his disapproval. “Not like we’re finishing the whole bottle anyway… I knew we’d prob’ly get too drunk to appreciate the good sh—t.” “Let’s just finish it up before we get to the park.” “God, you’re such…
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Love at Ten Eighty – Excerpt
“New guy alert, new guy alert!” announced Jenny. She had just come back from the academic advisor’s office. “Technically, aren’t we all new?” sassed Nana. She was always a smart-mouth. But she was right. We were all just starting the semester, but the fact that Kirk was the last student to join the class, a transfer student from Cuba, perfectly earned him that title. “Is he cute?” I asked. For some reason, being surrounded by attractive people made school all that more interesting. Nana said she thought he was cute and then threw a “but” in there. Jenny, on the other hand, didn’t think so. “Like, at all,” she said.…
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Broken Bonds
I parked my car by the blue line. The yellow line meant no parking, so I knew better to keep away. I was looking forward to seeing Aunt Marsala for the first time in forever. Before jumping out of the car, I double-checked that all the windows were up. Beep Beep. I locked the car. Aunt Marsala’s neighborhood looked dilapidated as ever. She had been a victim of life circumstances for far too long. Once at the top of her doorsteps, I rang the bell and waited outside. Fiddling with my keys, rocking back and forth on my heels, moving my head from side to side in a watchful way……
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Getting to Know Sara
Since she was eight years old, Sara has never lived in any country for more than three consecutive years. It is constant moving for her and her ambassador parents. She studied at many international schools, from London to Australia, and she speaks five languages: Italian, French, African, English, and now Spanish. Sara just moved to Salamanca, and in a few minutes, we’ll get to know each other better over a welcome lunch our host-family has prepared. My palms are sweaty and my middle finger wrestles my index under the table, imploring the universe that this girl is likable. After all, we’ll be housemates. Jose Maria, our host father, offers me…
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White Matter
The town is completely white. Cars, trees, power lines — everything is covered in white. I climb the couch by the double window and slide the curtains open. Kneeling on the couch, I cross my hands under my chin and watch the white matter as it falls from the sky. It doesn’t stop falling. No different patterns, no colors, nothing but white when I look up, down, and around. The brick houses in my neighborhood are untouched, except for their roofs. Up there, the white matter does stick. The roof on some of the houses have a very thick layer hanging on for dear life, while others only have some…
