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Edge of Thorns 2 - Pt 10Part 10
I get the feeling he's only asking as a courtesy, and would probably come over uninvited anyway. Might as well agree.
Nathan chuckled, rolling his eyes but nodding in agreement. "Okay, but at least give me a little time to do my interview. No offense, Wren, but I don't want her put off by your enthusiasm."
"Why would she be put off by my enthusiasm?" the teen echoed, then shrugged. "Eh, never mind. I need to make the food before it's brought over anyway."
"Good." Nathan pressed his lips together and turned back towards the table. "Well, to work."
He was no more confident now than he was before as he made his way to the table, clutching onto his notebook like it was the only thing protecting him. He knew it was ridiculous that he was this nervous, but it still kept him from shaking. "Ms. Anderson," Nathan greeted when he reached her, freeing one hand from its death-grip on the notebook to extend it to her. "I'm here from the Citizen. Scott couldn't make it."
Echoes - Episode 4: Monster
Episode 4: Monster
It was agreed that it was too late to go to the warehouse that night, and everyone felt a good night's rest was needed before they confronted whatever waited for them there. It was early the next morning, shortly after sunrise, when there was a loud banging on the door to the bar downstairs. Snow bolted upright in her cot, and very nearly screamed when she was startled by the large cheetah curled up at her feet, purring in his sleep. It took a moment for her waking mind to remember it was Guy, but she still held her breath as she carefully slid her feet out from under the large cat. The cheetah stirred, stretching out and
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin
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