The Glass Ceiling

The grand plan had only lasted so long. He frantically tried to find someone to blame for the inconsistencies in the material that had ultimately led to the calamitous leak that was now affecting the entire structure. His building, his dream, his potential for fame, now dashed. He stood surrounding by superiors, inwardly horrified and did some fast thinking. With a face of ultimate cool he presented an elegant solution. It was all back on track again.

The Heat Of Her Sweat

He was glad she was home. He had waited patiently for her to return from her daily run, looking forward to the heat from her flushed cheeks with the flavour of sweat still clinging to her body. The ache to crush her into him was at the top of any possible list of anticipatory events today. But she was still doing her stretching and wanted nothing to do with him at the moment. He’d have to wait until tonight.

Black Spider Red

He lived and died by the motif. The design was his, a childhood scribble turned into self-branded logo. It marked all that he had done, this evolution of passion and art governed his lifestyle. To him it signified killer strength and solo tactics. Sadly, once a year, it’s meaning was lost to all.

Cheers Chappie

"Well, we have rum, and Pepsi, and ice - let's see how that goes", he said. This was his memory of his favourite Uncle instructing him on fixing cocktails. Ever the host, dapper and unruffled, defining old school charm with his brand of savvy cool. Since he hadn’t inherited this attitude, he studied and learned it. The day he passed away, his tears mingled with the liquor as he made a drink in his honor.

The Mens Room

It was easy to look at it critically now that it was over. She felt no shame in what she had done. It was dirty but it was part of the experience. At least she could say she finally did it, performing fully, to the best of her ability. One-upping herself, she thought it might be better to use a non-bleach cleanser next time.

The Phone Booth

She repressed her natural inclination to call them. It had been months since she left home. She had her reasons, though time had forced them to evolve and in the spaces of silence she could hear their protests. The need to speak weighed on her, but embarrassment made her keep walking. Maybe tomorrow would be different.

Overpass

The reminder rose on a daily basis. Inconsequential to other drivers, it heralded memories that she refused to abandon. Their young courtship had grown from lusty love into maturity. The bridge represented days of palm pressing strolls, secrets told, promises made, and a connection that would last a lifetime.

The Masked Men

Their passion was symbiotic. The creations came only from this supreme collaboration, born of fraternal blood but made from sweat and frustration. He had tried individually with less than satisfactory results, now he went along with everything he suggested caving to his internal limit. Feeling his resentment build to a frenzied level, he found that sipping on a Slushee was the only way to temper it.

Concert

The live show absorbed him. Fantasies he had created in his headphone mind were nothing like this. They were flatly black and white compared to the multi sensory gift he was now receiving. He was abducted by the sway of sound and light and gave in wholeheartedly. When it ended his soul was the richer for it.

The Stinky Truck

It was the city. He could rhapsodize about the sounds and it’s scents, swaying any non-believers. He declared it wasn’t for the faint of heart, implying that he, of course, was of strong stock. But this morning’s delivery of a charred, earthy smell was assaulting. His nostrils flared and he bee-lined for Starbucks.

The String Bikini

Her shape, her skin, her softness, her warmth. They fit him well and they were one. A feeling he could never get used to because it seemed so corny, but it was real. It was the passion of knowing her so intimately, where to touch her, where not to, and the phenomenal sense that it was equal and would be returned in tandem. Then he stopped thinking and let his mind follow his body.

Mister Bear

This he recognized. This beacon toward home, his third place this year. Blurry eyed he dragged his reluctant feet and heavy head toward this new thing, afraid of what surprise awaited him. It was a different configuration, but still his belongings. Material possessions never felt so good. He flopped on the mattress and cuddled Mr. Bear.

The Cherry Pie

Sodden to the bone she struggled to keep positive. Her soul was flimsy and fatigued overwhelming her slight frame. It was like a sweat filled, chest crushing bad dream, this road full of wrong turns. Friends distanced themselves afraid of her bad luck. But the universe was merely teaching her a lesson. Her life would soon be cherry pie.

The Jesus Lady

She was a guide for those that were lost. With the motivation of certainty that is how she perceived and conducted herself. Finding errant sheep was easy, people with nothing to lose were apt to be followers. But being a leader was tiring and after her allotted time she got back to her high score on Tour of Duty.

Chinatown

She loathed her father for making her do things his way. His thrifty habits had the opposite effect on her. She liked to spend, to shop and was an unabashed materialist. She turned her eye to survey the superficial improvements she could make to the dismal scenario. She would show him. And to her surprise, he would love her for it.