He never remembered it being this heavy. It is as though there is another force. Something completely devoid of him, lifting his arms, moving his fingers to grasp the pen, motioning them to write lines he does…
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That there had to be people telling him what to do, what not to do.
It had been close to nine months. He thought if he could avoid it then it wouldn’t have to be real. He could still feel the warmth of Naysa as she hugs him on his leg, the highest that she could reach. He could never get the smell of baby powder that wafts on her pink room and the butterflies hanging from the ceiling. The sleepless nights he and Amy had to bear because she wakes up at night hungry for a bottle. The laughs he had potty training her to no success. He had kept the house while Amy got an apartment. He couldn’t bear moving one furniture or toy. Amy couldn’t bear staying in the house for an hour. There was a pounding on his chest. A physical pain he could never get over.
He feels too old to start over again. The glimmer of the life that he had suddenly flickered into the abyss that could never be his again. This was not fair. He did everything accordingly. He never cheated to get ahead. He worked hard to get where he is with his career. He helped where it is needed and to the extent he can provide. He wasn’t religious, but he was faithful. He loved the same woman for over a decade. But there was no one to blame, no one but himself.
Greg and Amy had been in the same high school. They had the same set of friends but never really saw each other for more than acquaintances. Greg had always been too serious. He was the captain of the debate team, constant honor student and officer of the class. But he had a certain charm. A quiet charisma attracts people to him. Amy, on the other hand, has this certain flair. She wasn’t the most popular but there is always someone following her around, willing to carry her bag and walk her to her next class. But through all those years there was not one person that had been her consistent boyfriend. To be more accurate, no one could really claim to be her boyfriend.
They met again on the engagement party of Bill and
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Daily details of human lives are combined with invented and magic factors of unreal world. Fantasy is combined with reality and a question appears: what are the magic possibilities presented in this story of magic realism? Whether the Angel is the inspirer of people?
It was written at a time when strict social roles were about to be unraveled. To illustrate: “They were always rebuffed and yet they continued to send out their invitations, unwilling to comprehend the rigid and undemocratic realities of their society” (Cheever 1239).
As time progressed, they talked about other matters, fell in love, cherished one another and finally wedded. The rich king had a daughter named Joanne whom he loved deeply. The queen also had a daughter from a previous matrimony named Jennifer Smith. The two, Jennifer and Joanne, become extremely good friends as they had been tied together by their parents’ marriage.
No way. Holy ****! I forgot everything. The dogs are begging for their regular treat, the pigs are impatient, and today is the day to harvest our veggies. See, I am a responsible, duty-minded, husband and father, and an organic-farmer. But something really created trouble within my energetic morning.
“The Glass Menagerie” opened in the mid 1940s in Chicago, and instantly became a mainstay in modern short fiction and continues to influence playwrights and authors of all genres. It is through symbolism that Williams
There was an alert of a probable terrorist attack on the city but such alerts were now a common thing to the residents there. Kashmir faced such alerts and such attacks almost on a daily basis; nothing could stop life from bustling. People still got married, they still had
Mother framed into the doorway with a plate of the cong you bing and rice for breakfast.
Xiaodan buried her head in her face, mandarin syllables reducing from her lips within her great, abrupt, twelve-year-old