Comments Posted By Bridget Grace

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She flipped her coiffed hair, trying to keep it out of her eyes. You would think the stylist would have known that she needed to be able to see.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.18.2017 @ 6:28 am


She looked into her wallet and tried to mentally calculate how long the cash she found in there would last her. Not long enough, that’s for sure. She gulped and carefully placed her wallet back in her bag. There was no denying it anymore. She needed to take drastic measures.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.16.2017 @ 5:55 am


She pushed her way through the crowd, head down, elbows in. People didn’t pay her any mind. They were waiting outside the door, trying to be heard over one another. She finally broke through and continued her brisk walk down the tiled halls, trying to look as natural as possible. For all the knew, she was an intern. Just a summer intern.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.13.2017 @ 5:26 am


She scanned the paper, checking for any sign that the news had broken overnight. Nothing. Nothing. Great. She snapped it shut and hit the intercom button on her phone. “Deborah?” “Yes?”
“Get Richard on the phone when you can, please.” “I’ll connect with him shortly.”
There was nothing to do now but wait.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.12.2017 @ 8:37 am


The intercom crackled and the conversation in the room slowly came to a lull. Some stopped and heeded the announcement attention. It wasn’t until their faces showed concern that the lagging chatters took any care to try to listen to the frantic message in the halls.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.11.2017 @ 5:04 am


She flicked her red pen across the page with such speed that it was crimson comet across the surface of my writing. I gulped and tried not to take that as a bad sign. I looked above her head at the framed photos and the pinned articles above her desk, distracting myself.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.10.2017 @ 8:19 am


She swung her hair from side to side, letting the swish ring through her ears. “Perfect.”
The stylist grinned absently as she swept the hair from the floor. “Great. Happy you like it.”
“I love it”

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.09.2017 @ 7:56 am


You’re so immature.
I know you are but what am I?
I’m trying to work, will you leave?
I’m bored.
Read a book.
I’ve read them all.
You’ve read every book?
All the good ones.
You are being absurd and you’re distracting me.
Pay attention to me!

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.07.2017 @ 7:01 am


She wet her lips with her tongue. “I mean, I could take it or leave it.”
She tried not to look him in the eyes and turned her attention back to the bookcase. “Let’s keep looking.”

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.05.2017 @ 7:22 am


She scanned the invite. It said all of the normal things. “We cordially invite you…” “Please send regrets…” Date. Time. Location. It seemed innocent enough. But when she looked back at the wax seal on the envelope, a shiver ran down her spine.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.04.2017 @ 5:37 am


She felt her eyes, heavy with sleep, closing. She was fading fast. She needed a break.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 10.02.2017 @ 11:52 am


She tightened her apron and brushed the tears from her face. There was too much to do. Now was not the time to hide in the supply closet. She opened the door slowly.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.30.2017 @ 1:21 pm


She watched him stagger through the lobby and catch his balance on the table in the entryway. She tried not to stare. She looked back to her computer screen purposefully, avoiding the obvious breach of hotel decorum.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.28.2017 @ 6:10 am


She heard the typical spaghetti western music and tried not to grin as she turned to him. He had a facsimile of defiance on his face, a hint of mischief.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.26.2017 @ 5:55 am


I can totally relate.
Can you?
Yeah, a similar thing happened to me.
Did it though?
Are you just going to question everything I say to you?
I might. Or might I?
You’re an incredibly frustrating individual.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.25.2017 @ 5:38 am


She heard his step on the top stair, like clockwork, exactly 5:35pm. She held her breath but tried to look at the TV as if nothing was happening. He entered, jingling his keys, calling to her softly. “In the living room!” she called back, in what she hoped sounded like a normal voice.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.24.2017 @ 11:36 am


She ran as fast as she could, faster than she had since she was a child.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.23.2017 @ 9:32 am


She felt that familiar knot in her stomach. She didn’t try to push it away this time. She let it tangle her insides into an intelligible rats nest, no way to disengage the pieces from each other.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.21.2017 @ 7:08 am


She heard the faint sound in the distance, pulling her into a memory of campfires and banjos strings. Her uncle Dan showing her the constellations in the night sky as she stared into the depths of the darkness in the woods around her.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.19.2017 @ 6:01 am


She fished in her wallet for a dollar bill and held it out, grinning. “Alright, go for it.”
Jessie squealed and clutched the money in her hand as she skipped over to the carousel. Allison laughed and followed behind, making sure the attendent saw that Jessie was indeed supervised.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.18.2017 @ 5:24 am


She pressed her forehead to the linoleum and it’s cool surface almost sizzled against her forehead. This is the most comfortable she had been in days. She closed her eyes against the harsh lighting of the bathroom and tried not to breathe in any number of unpleasant smells from the surroundings.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.17.2017 @ 11:09 am


She inhaled as his hands went in her mouth. “It’s okay.”
Try as he might to reassure her, he was never going to make her feel not violated by this. And it wasn’t about him. It was about the whole experiment. The instruments. The lights. The smell.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.16.2017 @ 9:47 am


She hit her hands against the walls, but she was convinced no one on the outside could hear her. Of course she would make the room sound proof. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and glanced around. Nothing. There was nothing to help her in here. Okay. Not time to panic. Think it through, Court.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.13.2017 @ 5:52 am


She hit the edge of the jar a little too hard on the counter. It shattered, jam spilling over her hands. “Damnit!”
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t get this thing open and I was dumb and I hit it against the counter and- ugh.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, it’s just jam.”

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.11.2017 @ 6:12 am


The wind blew her hair in front of her face and she raised her hand to push it back. The ocean crashed, as ocean’s do, up against the rocks.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.10.2017 @ 9:43 am


She held up the piece sheepishly. “So…”
“Oh man, that’s one broken mug.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to.”
“Eh. It’s alright. We have other mugs.”
She squinted at him, like she couldn’t quite believe her ears, “But this one was your favorite.”
He shrugged and went to pour coffee into something non-broken.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.07.2017 @ 5:53 am


She pulled his flannel closer to her and smelled him in the fabric. This was creepy. She knew it was. But it made her feel better.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.06.2017 @ 12:00 pm


She felt her face grow hot and tried to hide behind her hair. As quickly as she could, she scrambled away from the crowd and ducked into a hallway nearby. Breathe, Jess. Breathe.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.03.2017 @ 6:56 am


She jumped slightly in her seat. “Jesus.”
“No, just me.”
“Hilarious, hand me that notebook.”
“Which one?”
“Then one in your hand?”
“Hmmm… this one?”
“Knock it off, you’re not cute.”
“Oh, yes, I am, but that’s okay.”

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 09.02.2017 @ 7:34 am


She stifled her cough in her elbow, shook her head, and went back into the shelf. Dust burned her eyes, but she did her best to ignore it. The book had to be here somewhere. This is the direction the crusty old man had pointed her in, with the information shakily written out on a post-it note that had lost it’s ability to stick to anything.

» Posted By Bridget Grace On 08.28.2017 @ 4:54 am

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