(A short story by Irene B.) “Yes, yes, yes… okay, girl! I’m going to lock up as soon as you get off my line, crazy!” she said, half-laughing into the phone.Then she paused.“Mmm-hmm. Bedroom’s already locked.” Another pause, then a soft giggle. “You and your single-girl fortress routine.”Silence lingered on the other end, until more laughter broke through.“And you know I appreciate you, so thank you.”Her voice dropped just slightly, as if still listening.The call ended, and the room went still. Tisha liked to measure her mornings by sound. The hum of the refrigerator intermittently followed the grinding of the ice machine. And now, with it being summer, the rush…
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Dear Wine: After The Happy Hour
(A short journal story by Irene B.) 📖 Accessible version: Read the full journal entry (PDF document) Practicing out loud Sharing some of my writing, these fiction bits as part of my creative reps, flaws and all. Keep going with your “thing,” too. Small consistent steps, even imperfect ones, make big moves forward.
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The Time I Lied About Loving Jazz
(A short story by Irene B.) The Trio House Presents: THE JAZZ SETFriday, April 25 – 7 PMFeaturing Lonnie BassettePerformances by Joel Hicks, Joy Bailey, and The PriseTicket: $125 – Limited VIP Seating AvailableMystery Guest: The One… The Only… Corinne had stared at the flyer, laptop, phone and now back to laptop, for the past three hours. She was half-dressed, hair and makeup done, in her bra and camisole, trying to figure out what to wear. The flyer hadn’t miraculously changed and still advertised The Jazz Set at The Trio House, on Friday, April 25th: Lonnie Bassette, Joel Hicks, Amber Bailey, The Prise. The Prise, spelled with an S not Z. Special…
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When A Perfect First Date Turned Sour Over Steak
(A short story by Irene B.) Remi wasn’t superstitious, but when she realized this was date number seven, she decided to give the universe one last shot. Seven was supposed to be lucky, right? So far, though, luck had been upside down and flat on its ass. There was open-mouthed chewer Curtis, who launched a piece of moist cornbread straight from his gums and onto the edge of her bread plate. It dangled next to the very piece she’d been eager to try, but that was now ruined. Curtis had shared during a video chat that he’d had his tonsils out in his 30s, a revelation she had initially found…
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How to Find Light in Diabolical Times
(A note from Irene B.) These past days, or months, for many of us, it’s been almost impossible not to feel overwhelmed: fear, anger, rage… add anything else to that list, with what’s happening here. It’s touching everyone and is devastating on too many levels. The uncertainty. The constant “what’s coming next?”, rattles me daily. And I don’t have the answers. Yet, I still have to believe the good will outweigh the bad… at some point. And can that ‘some point‘ be right the hell now… please?! Even so, I keep moving forward, because I (we) have to. The world is still a big, beautiful, but deeply complicated place. We have to hold…
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Unexpected Package: A Train Ride and a Misstep
(A short story by Irene B.) Eva stepped onto the train, already scanning for her seat and ready to claim her territory. She spotted her four-seater in business class, blissfully unoccupied; an internal “Yes!” erupted. Eva dropped her laptop bag on the table, her stuffed tote bag across one seat, and, keeping her crossbody closest, plopped down in the window spot with a relieved sigh. She’d move things if someone legit showed up. Otherwise, this quadrant sanctuary was all hers. Across from her, in another four-seater, sat a man already there when she boarded. Smartly dressed in a business suit jacket that looked on-trend and expensive, but in that easy-going…
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I’ll Be the ‘Keep-the-Peace’ Person in My Next, Next Life
My friends, family, and the real-deal peeps in and around my life know who I am and that they can count on me. How?To show up.To work smarter and harder when needed.To be loving, trusting, helpful, considerate, etc., all with a hefty pour of humour that often goes too far. I love to laugh, especially at myself. Can’t stop. Won’t stop. I don’t need to convince anyone that I am a solid human being, complete with a multi-tab brain and a soft center. But let’s be real: invisible laser-cut daggers protect that soft center that, when tested, appears like a nightmare in your deepest slumber. I’ve long since purchased a…
