I'm a copywriter.
experienced in ad copy, video script, short story, poetry, song, and random notes on my phone that will never see the light of day
Up, silently, the 13 wooden stairs and to the left was one of many stubborn doors the old house had to bear. The door to the right offered a rather high-pitched screech each time it was disturbed, and this door too was brash if taken too quickly. I went secretly. Slowly, with breaths as restrained as the small pushes I exerted, the door would pinch itself open into the softly lit bedroom. I then had the fantastic pleasure of slipping inside and hushing the silence of the hallway behind me. Digging my toes into the plush of the carpet, warmth intermingled with strands of her long, blackish brown, and thick-as-thread hair that accompanied her familiar smell. Rebecca.
I don’t do bathrooms and traveling, but it was too late to turn around in the airport security line to dump my water bottle before I reached the TSA checkpoint. I ended up drinking the entire thing to catch our 8:25 am flight out of Salt Lake City International Airport on time along with the other 178ish people flying on our almost full plane to Chicago and that is why I am now forcing myself to stand and walk past the back five rows of the plane to reach the rear lavatory. It’s small. That’s coming from the girl who just stood fully upright beneath the overhead baggage compartment.