Reflections

Yip and I stared out the front door into thick, muddy blackness. Weather showed up in a very bad mood.

A musical interpretation of the three part story: A Sad Story

Work. When will it all end? As the usual work day ends, review the intermissions; those are what is remembered. What would life be without intermissions?

How to drive cupid’s arrow straight into its target, without spending a lot of time having to think about it, or… how to have a short romance and a long marriage.

As she approached her house, she heard wails. Turning slowly, there she was; her mother lying motionless on a cot. Her father pulled her school-bag from her back, but she couldn’t feel anything.

I was a fish caught in a net. No, it was worse. I was a spider caught in its own web. I strolled down the dirt road I was accosted by two village women who brandished their tongues and ran their epistles right through me.

He always showed up in my office, brought in by an angry teacher. We’d have a chat, he’d solemnly promise to be good, and off he’d go. One day it was different…