The Path

"I lick my teeth, lift my damp, tangled hair from my neck, wipe the sweat from my face, and flip my soaked pillow. I slowly allow my dry eyes to adjust to the annoyingly bright light. The early morning light peeks through my bedroom window’s plastic mini-blinds. His hot, moist breath pounds against my face There’s no asking him to stop breathing on me; he enjoys waking me up at sunrise. He loves me and if he could speak he would beg, “Wakey, wakey! I want eggs and bakey.” He’s a tall and skinny black Lab-looking mutt." Rachel Bell "The rain intensifies steadily. A middle-age, crusty and thin man stumbles around on the waterfront of Jackson Square. This is no place for a vagrant on a Monday afternoon. However, the rain will hopefully keep the officers in their cruisers, away from the hospitable banks of the Mississippi River. The vagrant’s thoughts are muted by a veil of cheap alcohol. He hobbles over to the sultry, wet grass next to the edge of the sidewalk and clumsily sits on the soggy ground. The boardwalk is a busy place considering the weather. He stares blankly at the patina bronze statue of a seated man and child that appear to be chatting. After briefly joining their conversation, the vagrant abruptly abandons his efforts. Apparently yielding to the solid arguments of the other two, he diverts his attention elsewhere. The vagrant’s sullen, drawn-out facial expression adds to the gray sadness of the entire scene. The rain continues. " The Traveler