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Local National. Property Type. Minimum Bedrooms No Minimum 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Maximum Bedrooms No Maximum 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Let Agreed. College Court, Queen Caroline street, Ha Has your property value increased? Arrange a Valuation. Recently Added Properties. The flecks stick in my blanket and I pick them out, carefully dropping them into the trash can. They struggle, I give, they give, and I struggle.

Finally, with my aching. It must be soon now. There are still some bits of wallpaper in the blanket so I pick them out. They fall like whirlybirds to the floor where they become forever entrenched in the tough fibers of the carpet. It smells like Travis, my Great Dane, now gone. My breath rattles in my chest, wheezes through my lips and stinks of eggs and toast; I should have brushed my teeth. And now here I am, thinking about Martin again. Forgetting him is like trying to forget an advertising jingle-impossible. The door bell buzzes weakly, but I hear it and adjust the bandana on my bald head before answering.

I want to look my best. Okay, maybe not as bad as mine. He has a detached but practiced smile on. It warms most people, but not me.


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His wide and crooked nose is rosy red in the frigid air——he might have a cold. Anyway, here is your package. More meds? Two years since he fell off that damned roof, hit his head, and forgot all about me. Two years since I walked away from his hospital bed and let him go live a new life, one without a wife. Now I have to keep him from knowing that I was ever a part of his life.

Like a damned Lifetime movie.

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Yet still… I watch him leave the porch and head to the little white truck at the end of the driveway. Even now, even after forgetting everything, he still flicks the lowest branches of the mulberry tree on the way down. I guess some things are never forgotten. However, today was different. He seemed so… interested, and I shoved him off again. The impossible happens. He turns around and looks right at me, right through the cracked window, just like he always used to do before work.

And, for a moment, I can see him throwing his bag to the ground and running back to me, remembering everything. I can imagine his embrace, the constant smell of wood chips and gas in his hair, the way he always tickled my neck with his stubble. Oh I remember the nights I spent rubbing his tired ankles, rippled with the long-red imprint of his tube socks stuffed under boots all day. I remember how in the cold Maine nights he would stoke up the fire at two in the morning just to make sure I was comfortable when I woke up. I could almost, in that moment as he stood there, imagine him hanging his hat on the mulberry branch and whistling for Travis.

The pup would come whizzing out from the back yard and tackle poor Martin to the ground!

Five that influenced me: Trey R Barker

I pick the book back up, trying to distract myself once again but I read the same words over and over. I seem unable advance a chapter, or turn a page, or even finish a line. Sheepishly, Martin enters the door and closes it, stomping his feet on the mat like he used to; left, right, left, left, right. Me and some of the folks down at the office have been worried about you. I completely forgot, how could I forget? Martin always overcooked the turkey, the potatoes were practically raw and the cranberry sauce was basically a sugar tart but it was our time. It was a day we could wrap ourselves up next to a fire and remember the thing that made life worth living, having each other.

Thank you. It sounds perfect. He picks at a seam in the wallpaper absentmindedly.

Freedom of the Open Road ride

I hated the way the contractor covered up my old walls. I probably could have done a better job papering them myself. Would match the sky in the hills out there, you know?

The walls were blue, back when he and I were… together. And he should know, he painted them himself! Covering up those beautiful blue walls was the first thing I did after the accident, after I said goodbye. I say nothing to him now. I can feel my eyes, as wide as well-caps, staring at him. Water is welling up in them, threatening to burst out in a flood of tears, but thankfully he moves towards the door, breaking my gaze. Rather than turning back, he decides on leaving backwards, smacking his bag loudly on the door frame and chuckling to himself.

I pick myself up out of the couch and hike up the dark wooden stairs. It takes me two whole minutes to reach my bedroom. I can hear the leaves fluttering against my bedroom window. It had all been locked away in a trunk in the closet. I had forgotten it completely, but now it is out on my bed, unlocked, and the contents strewn about the room like so many leaves.

Five that influenced me: Trey R Barker

Dress after dress after polyester dress comes flying out of the trunk and onto my feeble bones, and in a moment of pure magic I find myself in the white flower dress I wore on my first date with Martin. Laughing, I look myself up and down in the mirror, twirling about like a school girl as a scarf billows around my head, almost like my hair used to move, in the cold Maine wind.

About The Author. Luke Orlando was born and raised in Pennsylvania. He has been continuing his education at East Stroudsburg University. He is also a camp-fire guitar player who likes to sing Bob Dylan covers when no one is home. Unable to escape the charm of his home state, he now lives in a quiet community in the Pocono Mountains, where he is a high school English teacher and loves absolutely every minute of it. The noise came from a group of four teenage girls whose gestures and tone of voice relayed their agitation. The girls were taking turns peering into a box and then alternately talking into a cell phone which was being passed around the group.

My triage technician went up to evaluate the contents of the box which turned out to be a threemonth-old kitten. Guilty glances shot around the circle of girls.