Winter 1994 • Vol. XVI No. 1 Fiction |

Cupid’s Carriers

September 1 Hi. I pledge to write in this book every day to slow down the speed at which all this is happening.   September 15 [Oops, so much for writing every day.] Having nothing better to do after high school, I came here to college. That was two long weeks ago. My mother was very happy with my decision. At a similar crossroad, she had, instead, gotten married and had me. [Not in that order.] It had taken her ten years to get Dad out of the house and, another eight later, she drove me here, wrote me a generous check, helped me pack up my stuff into a laundry cart, looked me over to make sure I wasn't as pretty as she was, kissed me good-bye. Mom said it was my life from now on. I made a mental note to cash the check a.s.a.p. Of late, I have developed the habit of listening to what people say but guessing what they really mean, which is often not the same thing. Sometimes this makes it hard to have a conversation. When I left Mom, she probably experienced

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The Sprite

By John Foster

September 1 Hi. I pledge to write in this book every day to slow down the speed at which all this is happening.   September 15 [Oops, so much for […]

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