“fumbling as she removes” by Julia at her dining table

Saturday June 11, 2016
5 minutes
from an assignment

It’s the second time they’ve fucked in 2 hours. She is eyes closed, veal roast in the oven, 15 minutes left, oven mitts on and panties down. He is grabbing, grinding, purring in her ear pushing pants down, hers, his, lower, lower. She is arched back, kicking off tight jeans, kicking tight jeans aside, making more room, getting better grip. He is neck kissing, hair pulling, t-shirt over head lead her from the kitchen counter, all the way to the living room floor. She is focused, free, committed. He is thirsty, licking, willing. She is sniffing his skin and sighing deep. He is groaning each second, spilling into her, spilling out of her.

“Happy Mother’s Day” by by Julia at her desk

Sunday May 10, 2015
5 minutes
from a sign at the florist

So I was 12 or something when we were having a Mother’s Day Brunch for my mom and I was convinced it had to be like a movie. So when my family was all gathered around the table ready to eat, I stop the presses and run to go get the CD player because there is a crucial song that needs to be played right at the start of the meal (for some reason). So I go get it, and everyone’s like, what are you doing, let’s do it after, come on let’s just eat now, etc. And then I get VERY upset because no one can understand how ABSOLUTELY FUCKING IMPERATIVE PLAYING “THE PERFECT FAN” BY THE BACKSTREET BOYS ACTUALLY IS. So at this point I’m in full cry-town mode. I hate the world, I’m very embarrassed that they let me hype up the plan only to criticize it, and worst of all, now my mother will never know how I truly feel about her.

“creating a tension” by Julia at TAN on Baldwin

Monday February 11, 2013 at TAN
5 minutes
Sex,Drugs,And Cocoa Puffs
Chuck Klosterman

Dear friend,
I’ve been better, Hannah. I really have. I am looking back on my life right now and can only safely say that I have been happy a total of 3 times in my entire existence. What happened to me, Hannah? Was I not full of life in our youth? Don’t you remember me wishing on stars and running around without shoes? All that hard work trying to be free has not paid off. I’m a solace to no one. I am a slave to the society’s fixed price life option. Beginning. Middle. End. Nothing in between, Hannah! Nothing to set me apart from the status quo. Oh and my mind aches. I am so tired from all the poor decisions and lack luster ideas I’ve been having. What changed, my dear Hannah? What could possibly be different now. Have I aged without grace? Have I chosen a path trodden by too many? Am I an embodiment of my own regret?
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And you, Hannah, how are you?