Breakfast: Incompatibility

15 Nov

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked as she emerged fully dressed from his bedroom.

“Oh.” She looked around the tiny apartment. It had looked so much cleaner last night. “I don’t eat eggs. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Ah.” He slid the pan off the stove. “Guess you won’t want the bacon, either.”

She wrinkled her nose and he tossed it into the trash.

“Toast and jam?” she asked.

“Gluten allergy.” He shook his head.

“Wow.” She spotted her purse near the door.


“Listen, I’ve got a …thing.”

“Right… I’ll call you. We can get coffee or something.”



Darwin’s Drabbles: Primary Colors

14 Nov

The auras gave him headaches.

At first he thought they were tricks of light, as if the person had walked in front of a colored light bulb. As the ability grew, he realized those first impressions where the brightest. Within weeks everyone was glowing. Red, blue, yellow, brown. Some were murky swirls of colors, others solid floodlights. Why could he see it? What did the colors mean?

Reverend Jacobs said he’d been blessed by the Holy Spirit or was possessed by one of Satan’s agents and suggested Darwin pray for an answer.

Darwin prayed to be free of whatever this was.


Primary Colors: LiveStrong

13 Nov

There were two things he never took off without a very good reason. The first was the wedding ring that had to be replaced after falling into a river on his honeymoon. The other was a yellow band of rubber imprinted with a simple challenge. It had been a fad for some, but for him it was a call to action. After nearly 10 years of marriage, he could hardly feel the weight of the ring. The band would go unnoticed for weeks and then it would get snagged on a shirt and remind him.

Cancer sucks. Also, get on your bike.

inspired by one of Ryan’s recent tweets.


Primary Colors: Message In a Bottle

11 Nov

She opens the box and studies the contents. She skims the instructions.

So much of her life is out of her hands. Her useless advisor at grad school. The mortgage on the house she won’t be able to sell for years. Her grandfather’s failing heart. Her mothers cancer.

She slips on the gloves. She pours the smaller bottle into the larger and replaces the cap. She shakes and the liquids turn to a single, purpling muck. She sets down the bottle and takes one last look at her hair.

It’s a small thing to have power over, but it helps.


Primary Colors: Over Easy?

10 Nov

The butter sizzles in the pan. The egg is cracked and spreads in the pan, translucent white bubbling and turning opaque. She slides the spatula under the egg and lifts. The egg wobbles and threatens to slip. She bites her lip and flips the egg. She opens her eyes and sighs as she sees the yolk mix with the setting white. It turns pale yellow as it hardens.

She slides the wrecked egg onto the waiting pile of losses. She cuts off a fresh pad of butter and returns the pan to the stove. She reaches into the nearly-empty egg carton.


Primary Colors: World Without End

09 Nov

There is a place somewhere in the Caribbean Sea that is made entirely of Blue. If you take a boat and row yourself as far in one direction as possible, you will find it. It may take you days, but if you search long enough, it’ll be waiting. If you’re lucky, you’ll arrive when the weather is right. The sky will be clear, and the sun will be high. The line between heaven and earth will disappear. You can lay on your tiny boat and see and feel nothing but perfect Blueness.

There is a place. And I will find it.


Primary Colors: Candy Apple Red

08 Nov

She did not consider herself a flashy person. She dressed conservatively by modern standards and only her grandmother would question the tightness of her sweaters or the length of her skirts. Her job was mundane at best. Her relationship was years old and comfortable.

That was before he dumped her. For someone flashy and trendy and “exciting” who taught pilates at a yoga studio.

She knew it was drastic. She knew she’d likely end up regretting it, but she didn’t care. She saw the bright red car on her commute and called in sick on her way to the dealership.


Darwin’s Drabbles: Puppies and Rainbows

07 Nov

Darwin was four the first time he demonstrated his talent.

“Why you crying, CeCe?”

“I lu-lost Miss Fluh-Flowers.”

“Your puppy?”

“Uh, huh. I c-can’t find her.”

Darwin closed his eyes and thought about the stuffed animal. He saw it, dirty and discarded. The image expanded and he recognized the brightly colored graffiti on the brick wall where the toy rested.

“I find it for you,” he said and took her hand. She followed him to the end of the block and found Miss Flowers where she’d fallen from her backpack.

“You’re magic!”

Darwin shrugged and they walked back to her yard.


Puppies and Rainbows: By Any Other Name

06 Nov

Bowser patiently gnawed on a strip of rawhide as the debate raged.

“We are not naming him ‘Jacob’. Or ‘Edward.’ Or ‘Cullen,’ or anything from those crap books.”

“He’s my dog, Rory. I can name him whatever I want.”

“He needs a classic name. Not some stupid fad that he’ll hate for the rest of his life.”

“He’ll love whatever name I give him, won’t you boy?”

Bowser lumbered over to her. She raised him up and looked him in the eyes.

“What’s your name, little guy?”

Bowser looked back at her and thought with all his might.

“I’ve got it!”


Puppies and Rainbows: Shared Moments

05 Nov

As he scratched behind Bowser’s big floppy ears, Roark’s parents conferred.

“We decided, Roger. Bethany would get to pick out the puppy.”

“But look at your son. He’s smiling. He’s having fun. I can’t remember the last time he came out with us without his phone in his hand.”

“But Bethany—” Janie cut herself short as she watched her daughter approach Bowser and Roark. Roark showed her what he’d already learned about the affectionate little puppy. Where he liked to be scratched. Sounds that made him wag his tail. Bethany searched the room for her parents.

“I like this one, Mom.”