Mrs. BeaumanGary had always liked Mrs. Beauman. She normally came into the shop once a week for her groceries, and on occasion she would ask Gary to help carry them back home with her. She always had the sweetest, coldest lemonade on hand to thank him for his troubles, as well as these delightful ginger cookies he never seemed able to get enough of.Mrs. Beauman by mysie
Every visit was the same. And it was a visit, because once he was in her small yet tidy apartment, he always found himself agreeing to hearing just one more of Mrs. Beauman's stories. He would eat at least a half dozen cookies, a few glasses of lemonade, and nearly forget everything but her soft, slightly raspy voice. He always felt a little disappointed when, at precisely 10 minutes to five, she would kindly ask him to leave so she could start making dinner.
Mrs. Beauman hadn't come in today, which was odd for her because she always came in at precisely 2:20 PM every Tuesday afternoon. It was almost five when Mr. Willard found hi
Dreaming Part 9Dreaming Part 9 by mysie
We were at the restaurant, and we were together, and it was real. But I had to call Robert and tell him where I was; he had already paged me three times. I stood at the phone for over 5 minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say. I finally decided to tell him that my best friend had finally left her slob of a fiancˇ, and needed me for moral support. It wasn\'t an easy conversation though. I was a bad liar, and Robert was upset that I hadn\'t called him earlier - he was already at the restaurant. In the end, he accepted the urgency of the situation, and said he wouldn\'t wait up for me. I had bought myself a few hours to figure out what the hell I was going to do about the fact that I was about to ruin my marriage tonight. Yippee.
When I finally sat back down at the table, Ethan looked angry. I had been gone for almost 15 minutes. Shit, after all this, and the first emotion I see on his face towards me is anger.
\"You\'re leaving, aren\'t you?\" he
Dreaming Part 8Dreaming Part 8 by mysie
That evening at 6:25, after everyone had gone home, I was still typing away at my computer, catching up on some work until I left to meet my husband for dinner. There was a noise behind me, and I jumped. I flew around, and Ethan was standing in the doorway to my cubicle. He gave a low chuckle, and his smile was enough to melt me into a little puddle on the floor. My breath caught in my throat, but not from surprise. He was a vision tonight, dressed in knee-high Doc Martens, black leather jeans, and cream colored silk shirt stuffed into them. This wasn\'t exactly dress code material - his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving a giant \"v\" of milky flesh exposed. I thought I would faint at the sight of that chest, until I saw his halo of red-gold hair spilling over his shoulders. Christ, angels really do walk this earth.
\"You\'re here late,\" he said, his voice low with a dreamy quality to it. My toes curled in my shoes.
\"Me? You were out sick today. What are you doing here
Current Residence: Seattle|
Favourite genre of music: dance, 80's
Favourite style of art: Anime/chibi/quad
Operating System: Mac OS X
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Shell of choice: sea
Favourite cartoon character: eeyore
Personal Quote: Sometimes I wish that people who suck would realize they suck and they'd stop sucking.
Well, kidlettes, guess what? Mysie up and wrote her first piece of fiction in god-knows how long. So here it is. Hope you tell me what you think.