A Prologue to the Beginning of the Beginning

A Prologue to the Beginning of the Beginning I just drove eleven hours away to become something extraordinary and I’m sitting inside The Waffle House wiping boogers with my sleeve, trying to stop myself from crying. What the fuck is this, I kept thinking to myself while I combed my fork through an unknown substance at the corner of my plate. The bacon and two eggs over-easy appeared normal, but I was too distracted by this gray, foreign, gunk to take a bite of anything. My stomach continued to shoot vibrating ammunition up and down the right side of my torso which I was sure could be heard by everyone in the restaurant. I’m starving but these are not hash browns. Whatever they are, it reminds me of all the terrible infections I’ve googled throughout the years on nights I believed I was dying. Poking at the diseased plate, I kept choking down tears and hoping that the waitress wouldn’t recognize my misery. But she’s a waitress. She knows misery. I ate all of the bacon and some of the eggs, then paid eight dollars. Jumping down from the counter stool, I pulled at my sun dress to make sure my ass wasn’t showing. “Oh you mean that twig of a thing from New Jersey that cries like a baby and prances around half naked?” I envisioned them saying in their southern accents after I left. I got into my car and started the engine as if I were in […]

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A Bloomsburg Story (The Only One I’ll Tell)

  A Bloomsburg Story   “Oh, you went to Bloomsburg? My nephew goes there.” Some bald-headed man questioned as I was about to exit the deli. Other than the bleach stained Bloom-U sweatshirt, I was wearing the same lime green leggings I woke up in that morning along with paint covered boots. It was near noon on a Tuesday, but I looked like the product of a sloppy Saturday night. Devouring the bagel sandwich tucked under my arm was the only concern on my mind and I almost pretended not to hear the strange man. But I’ve never been any good at ignoring people and even a deep love for bagel sandwiches couldn’t change this part of my character. I turned and told him, “Yes but I transferred sophomore year. Back in 2010.” “Well why’d ya do that? My nephew loves it! Beautiful campus.” I listened to the brown paper bag crinkle under my palm as my nerves took over. I stared at the little bald stranger’s face and tried to remember. *** We were walking back from the Bloomsburg Fair as I crossed my eyes in an attempt to see the surface of my nose. I wanted to know if the sun was casting shadowy patterns through the holes of my new cowgirl hat. I could have asked Robert but I didn’t. I preferred the unpleasant sensation of making my eyeballs go crooked into my skull over such a thought. We walked next to each other on Main Street. […]

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