She arranged her lips into a pout. She waited, looking at me like a child pleading for ice cream. This was all becoming too much. I had a right to say no. I had a right to be tired of the whole thing.
Welcome to my writing portfolio. I focus on travel memoir, reflective pieces, and critical essays. Enjoy!
All tagged Race
She arranged her lips into a pout. She waited, looking at me like a child pleading for ice cream. This was all becoming too much. I had a right to say no. I had a right to be tired of the whole thing.
You can tell by the set of his jaw that he is a serious man. His tie hangs loose around his neck; his laptop bag sits patiently on the floor. The familiar trill of jazz notes climbs up and down the walls. The man enjoys the way his wife moves about the kitchen, not yet noticing him.