I believe open-face sandwiches are hiding something. – L. Oliver Bright
Another Man's Job
Hungry for her husband’s touch, she slid into the steak house booth knowing diamonds and money flowed freely, but his affection was a luxury with too high a price. “What would you like?” the young waiter grinned, seductively. “Whatever you suggest.” She said as her husband studied the menu. “Your I.D.?” the waiter flirted. After he left, she grinned. “Nice for someone to think I’m twenty.” Her husband placed the menu down and laughed. “Dear, you’re forty-two. He was just doing his job.” Later that week, she texted her husband before entering the hotel room. Someone ‘s doing your job.
- Kelly Haas Shackelford
When not taming a feral cat colony, Kelly Haas Shackelford is spinning dreams out of cat litter, rescue calls, and catnip.
Why is a novel praised as poetic while a poem is panned as prosaic? - Emily
Emily is a member of Page & Spine's editorial staff.