wordflight

 On the first day I know I saw him, I woke up early in the morning for work. I got out of my bed and folded the sheets at the edge. It is more important than most people realize to make your bed every day. Then, the first task of the day is done. The day is started with accomplishment from real work, even if it is only a small effort. It gives you the right mindset of organization and productivity.   Next, I showered. I used the best soaps and shampoo I can get. Personal presentation is always important. Even if it seems no one notices, your cleanliness will affect how people treat you, and can be the first obstacle to success. I shaved with

(This is a script written for a class, hence the format) INT: KITCHEN A typical suburban kitchen, camera situated at one end facing slightly down, as if at on the ceiling against the wall. There is a wooden table in the center, a fridge, a counter with a sink, and a window on the right, and a doorway on the left. The walls are white washed with pictures of the family on them.   A family of four sits at the table, eating breakfast. JORDON, late 30s, fit, clean cut, shaven, and in a pressed suit, is seated facing away from the camera. MARIE, late 30s, attractive, and wearing a dress, is facing him. The children, JESSICA, aged 13, and BEN, ag

I've never noticed how nice her Monroe curls were until I looked around the room, it made the lamps bright, and the walls elegant; beneath the moons gaze, through the torn faded velvet drapes, giving us enough concealment. Her rapid movements could match the palpitations of her heart, though, the expression shown once she turned around didn't reflect as well. She walked backwards until she felt the bed, while pressing down the side of her stomach she softly laid atop of the bed and wrapped herself beneath the sheets, her skin blending into the bleached cotton. Her body on its side and her legs crescent, she removes her hand and looks. I

THE WOMAN WHO MADE ME     The woman who made me never looks at me when she speaks. Her eyes tend to wander as words spill out of her mouth as if she was about to puke. Last week, she tried to calling my other half of me a chink but all that came out was gibberish. I couldn’t even get angry, even when I woke up with a swollen forehead the next morning.     I never knew the man whose sperm is my foundation. The woman who made me used to tell me he died after overdosing on pink toes and that I would face the same future. Come to find out, he lived across the country, out west. I hear he died from cancer sometime last year.     Today i