By Lisa H. Owens
A long day of classes followed by a nightly ritual. Three roommates and one rickety table. We talked of lovers and relationships we wished we’d never had. We spoke of our creepy landlord, rumored a Peeping Tom, and the balding carpet he wouldn’t replace. Him intruding at odd hours, never quite meeting our eyes, instead, gazing longingly at nubile bodies. Candice’s habit of biting fingernails past the quick and how her mother promised an heirloom ring, encouraging her to stop. She sucked hard—embers glowing—before deformed fingertips passed it on. Sharing that last Virginia Slim before calling it a night.
A great visual piece of writing.Kudos.
Thanks so much, Kevin. I really appreciate it!
Loved it!!
Thank you, my friend. I appreciate you reading and commenting on this tiny memoir!
Nice
Thanks so much, David!
So visual Lisa! I want to hang with those roommates! Enjoyable story!
Thanks so much, Pat! Well I was one of them, so if you’re ever in Texas…
It came alive at that table. Well done.
Thank you! I appreciate you reading this piece and commenting, Toni!
Very well written I could almost see myself there in the room.
You were there in spirit! Thank you for reading my little memoir.