Lorraine clutched with ribboned overheardnew york wage and hour
1999 cricket world cup, legalprofessionals, satire, rapeporn, case law, wage and hour, driving drunk, video: drama, movie, how, ezine, I beheld trails going to other places, and to overheardnew york either side of me, a precipitous drop into mist. RIGHT NOW. A bedraggled drug addict is hounding me in our cell, poking me with his bony finger, wanting to know if it was true I told my lawyer to leave without overheardnew york posting bail. He keeps poking me even as I lie back on the cot. I’m loose, exhausted. For just an instant, images of Lorraine recede and I see myself playing tennis with Little Andy, laughing and stroking the ball back to him, teaching him overheardnew york to enjoy the game. The shadow of an old elm stretches across the empty stands. © Marc DuBois 2003 This story may not be archived, reproduced or distributed further without the author's express permission. Please see our conditions of use. author bio Marc DuBois has spent the better part of the last two decades shifting continents and work. He has been a Peace Corps volunteer (Burkina Faso), studied in Holland (development) and New York (law), bartended, and spent several years in New Orleans fighting against housing discrimination.
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Lorraine clutched with ribboned fingers at a pennant of glass embedded in her armpit, working it back and forth to disimpale herself. wage and hour I turned to see the babysitter shrieking uncontrollably from the doorway but I couldn’t hear a sound wage and hour over the whoosh of static in my head. I fumbled wage and hour with the red geyser, frantically pressing the blood back into the hole, Lorraine calling Andy, make it stop until the liquid thickened and became dark, like motor oil, and my name became an everlasting echo. 38 HOURS AND 32 MINUTES AGO. Eyes shut, I stared across time at my life, as if looking out from the crest of a great ridge. The markers and signposts leading to that moment aligned, as clear as the points on the trail out of the valley — the lone tree where lunch was eaten, the treacherous patch of scree, the mottled boulder split down the middle.
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