One Act Play

Lights up on Karen and Adam, sitting on the side of the road. There are two destroyed cars with smoke coming from the top of them. One car, a BMW CLA Coupe, belonged to Adam. Karen was the owner of a 2001 Volkswagen Golf.

Karen: Are you ok? I’m so sorry! You were in my blind spot, and I couldn’t even see you coming. Are you in any pain?

Adam: Um yes, I’m ok. My car isn’t so good though. I’ll have to replace that.

Karen: What’s your insurance? I’ll give them a call and tell them what happened.

Adam: First we should probably call the police in case my car catches on fire. I will admit I was driving pretty fast.

Karen: Is there anyone else in your car?

Adam: Nope, just me.

Karen: Ok, are you sure everything's ok?

Adam: Yes, everything is fine! Its just been a bad day. I was already late for work, my ex wife is stuck home sick so I had to drive to her house and bring my kids to school, and now this happened. But, I guess there’s nothing I can do now.

Karen: I agree. I was driving home from court with my husband, well actually ex husband now.

Adam: Wow I’m so sorry! Maybe we can go out to lunch one day and talk.

Karen: Yes, I’d like that.

The policemen and fire department show up to the scene. The firemen clean up the smoke from the cars. One policeman approaches the victims.

Policeman: Are both of you ok? Do we need an ambulance?

Karen: No, I’m ok.

Adam: Yeah well I’m not!

Karen: What? You just told me 5 minutes ago that you were ok!

Adam: Your car slammed into mine as you were going 80 mph. Obviously I’m not going to be ok! I just bought this car, now I’m going to make YOU replace it.

Karen: I’m really sorry but two minutes ago you agreed that it was just a mistake. We both crashed into each other.

Policeman: OK let’s settle things down. What happened?

Adam: I was just simply driving down the road and she swerved her car into mine!

Policeman: Is this true?

Karen: Not at all! He was in my blindspot and I tried to switch lanes. I had my directional on and everything! He just sped right into me.

Adam: You aren’t supposed to lie to the police, you probably have an IQ of 6. If you’re going to be two faced, at least make one of them pretty.

Karen: I am not two faced, you are! Right before this cop showed up, we were planning our date! Now, you completely turned on me.

Adam: I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I would NEVER take YOU out on a date. That’s gross.

Policeman: Ok well from what I understand, Karen is at fault here. I’ll file a report as soon as I get in my car.

Karen: What! That’s not even fair!

Policeman: Yeah, whatever. Hey Adam, are you still down for coffee on Thursday?

Karen: Oh, I see what’s going down here!

Adam: Stop making excuses! I’ll see you in court, I hope you have a good lawyer.

Karen: BYE.

Picture Perfect Photos

Picture Perfect

The Path to Infinite Love

Our love was like an old, beaten down path that wondered aimlessly throughout the woods. Sometimes, our two trails would come so close that they would almost connect. During these times, we are the happiest people in the world, planning our future and dreaming of it coming true. Similarly to any young couples' fantasies, we had hopes of going to the same college, starting a family, and being together forever. Nothing is forever, and sometimes our paths would be separated by bright green grass suffering to continue to thrive under the rocky ground. People try to get in our way. Our parents and jealous classmates tried to break us up. We fight, scream, and yell so deeply we would both fear we will end up heart broken and afraid to love anymore. Yet somehow, we overcome this misery and continue to drag along the path, and the distance between our trails comes together once again. We apologize, realizing that our love is inseparable. These are the times we feel stronger than ever, and nothing can hurt us. Many have walked this path before us, and they have all overcome these same challenges to fulfill a happy and successful life together. However, some people choose the wrong path, and they are wretched for an eternity, until they force themselves along the same trail with another companion. We are nothing without our love, and we are determined to pick the right paths, no matter how far apart they may be. We know in our darkest times that we will find peace again. We have heard stories about the end of the path, and we are compelled by the images of eternal peace and happiness. No matter how many obstacles get in our way, our hopes and dreams will continue to drive us back together in the end.

Broken Memories

The rotten, dried up flowers sitting on my bedroom dresser hold memories of a lost love. One rose, given to me on our first date, reminds me of the pizza we ate, the sand we walked on, and how perfectly our hands fit together as we watched the sunset. The second rose holds the memories of our wedding day. The day we came above all odds, a high school couple lasting through many years of separation through college. Although our families opposed us, we were determined to secretly stay together. Through many cries and laughter, this day will mark the beginning of everlasting love. I accepted the flower, tears filling my eyes as it finally came to my realization that we could finally be together without fear. Another flower arrived on the day we found out we were going to have our first child. Our life together flashed forward in my eyes, and the dance recitals, soccer games, play dates, and birthday parties that awaited us brought excitement and joy to my heart. The final rose was wrapped around your hand as you lay in the coffin, waiting to enter infinite peace. After many years of fighting, the cancer took over your body. Our memories will forever be stored in the lifeless flowers that sit on my bedroom dresser.

The Game

The lavender laces are tied as tight as possible, almost to the point where they suffocate my feet. The light colors are prepared to be turned a dark beige shade after being crushed by the spikes of an opponent's boots. Sweat dripped down my face like rain trailing down a window. This is the moment all athlete's wait for their entire career. As I hit the pitch, I felt the roar of the crowd vibrate under the sole of my cleat. As my cleats dragged me to the middle of the field for kickoff, I envisioned all the challenges they overcame to get to this position. From the first day they were opened, the light glowing off their white toe, the orange echoing the light of the sun, they visioned being in this situation. Their colors, which seemed so strange put together, worked beautifully together. As I stand on the field and the initial whistle sounds a noise common to my ears, I await the ball to be interrupted by the strength of the cleat. The sound marked the beginning of a battle that only one team would win, a fight that left you breathless and shaking with adrenaline. Every touch my cleat made with the ball made me feel more connected with it, and we worked as one unit to strike the ball into the net. My cleats and I aggressively dashed though the tough grass and dirt to beat the opponent to the ball. Through many hours of practice and games and many yards of sprints, the colors began to dry away, but the success of the cleats did not.

Rocking Chair

The old man was a shriveled toothless creature, charismatic and walked with a cane. He looks as though a puff of wind could blow him down. He had a hand tremor and constant waggling and bobbing of the head. The old man's deep wrinkles seemed to carve a map of his life on his still agile facial features. His twinkling eyes were framed by thick white eyebrows and on his stubbled chin were white whiskers. His memories both warmed and haunted him, sometimes drawing a smile and other times a tear. When he told us his stories on warm, sunny summer days on his old porch, we were transported into a new world. His slow, calming voice spoke the words of a long, unforgettable life. The man’s heartwarming tales gave all of us chills. We loved to hear the stories, and his face often grew red under his wrinkled skin as he told them. As he rocked back and forth in his ancient rocking chair, the floorboards under him creaked with every movement.  Every child in the neighborhood would show up to his house to keep him company, but we didn’t mind. One day, we all showed up to his house, and he wasn’t sitting there anymore. We waited a few more days, and still no sign of the man. My older neighbor said his mother told him the man was in a better place now. I don’t know what this means, but I guess I won’t be visiting anymore.

Sunset

An orange haze casted over the moving sea, reflecting off every wave. Half of a glowing, radiant light was still visible on the water's horizon. A warm sensation was splashed onto my face from the beaming rays of the sun. Calmness flew by with the wind making my heart stop for a single second. You could hear the grasses rustling behind me as if they were whispering to each other. Dolphins lunged out of the fiery waters, and they quickly plunged back underwater. The birds huddled with their young ones getting ready for the night. People observing the nature stop to take pictures, and they form different shapes with their bodies using the sun’s reflections. The sun was sinking faster now and the whole sky was turning to blood. Finally, the sun disappears along with its shine. After a blisteringly hot day the sun had finally set, and there was a sense of relief from the hot, dry air as the cooling sea breeze swept over them. But the stars peek out under the black, night sky. Nocturnal creatures come to the surface and chirp many different echoing songs. Small crabs appear out of the thick, white sand and scurry towards the ocean line. In just a few, short hours, these animals will go back into their homes, and a new day will come and go.

 

 

The air was turning cold as fall began to approach winter, and heat from the campfire seemed to be sucked into the frigid air before ever reaching our frozen bodies. We added more wood and poked it with long sticks to create new sparks that would soon become flames. It seemed to die a little as if unsure of its abilities to keep us warm as we sat outside enjoying each other’s company. It devoured at the new logs like a child at Thanksgiving and sent feeble sparks to die in the air and turn into ashes that rained down on them. Soon it found its confidence and grew until the heat warmed them, orange flames celebrated with their wild flickering dance. The fire continued to grow as much as we fed it and when we ran out of logs, it slowly died down as we shared our last laughs.

On our last day together at the lake, we spent every second together from the moment our eyes woke up. I was careful to not miss any time with my friends, because this is the last time I would see them until next year. As the night grew darker, our voices became raspier as we spent our last moments together. Although I couldn’t see anyone’s faces over the glare of the smoke, I knew we were all holding back our tears. When the fire went out and we zipped up our tent, I realized how lucky I was to have such amazing friends to share these memories with.

Person/Place/Thing: Single Dad, Dairy Queen, Magic Ukulele

"I can't believe that after 29 years of marriage, she decides to leave me for an unemployed man who can barely afford a shack to live in." As the man sat alone in a velvet red booth at a Dairy Queen, he drank his melted ice cream which his waterfall of tears had melted. His life seemed to be over. Suddenly, a midget holding a sparkly ukulele, which looked like a regular guitar in proportion to his body, winked at him and disappeared into thin air. The only evidence that the man was ever there, was the ukulele, which sat on the neighboring table next to the man. The lonely father picked up the instrument, and it played a sharp, high pitched tone. He looked around the restaurant and noticed that no one else could hear the sound. Then, the man heard a piercing voice coming out of the body of the ukulele. He put his ear very close to the source of the sound, and then it screamed "Go to hell" and it began to laugh hysterically. Furious, the man stormed out of the Dairy Queen and slammed the ukulele on the ground, sending the stings flying and the rest broken into millions of pieces. He sprinted to his car, slammed his door shut, and blasted the radio to tune out any of the negative thoughts in his mind. As the music played louder and louder, it abruptly came to a stop, and complete silence filled the car. Confused, the lonely father tried to restart his car. This time, the same voice that came out of the ukulele in the restaurant came on even louder and said "Go to hell!" As the laughing continued, the man swerved out of the parking lot and wrapped his car around a tree. Immediately, the depressed man was taken out of his misery.

Ironic Story: The Book

The ocean breeze blew through the young girl’s hair, and she sat on the towel soaking up the sun’s rays. She had her headphones in, and she was reading a book about teenage relationships, dreaming she could take the spot of the girlfriend.

Her mom yelled loud enough to be heard through the headphones, “I can’t believe I drove you two hours to a beach to watch you sit there doing nothing. You could do this at home! At least go in the ocean for a couple minutes.”

“Just let me finish this chapter.”

Up on the towering chair, an attractive and muscular man sat observing everyone in the water. He blew his whistle, alerting the boys in the water to stop wrestling. His strong arms and toned back made everyone in the deep blue water feel safe.

“Are you almost done? Just go swim for two seconds to cool off.”

“Fine but when I get back, just leave me alone for the rest of the day”

She approached the cool water and stuck her toes in. A string of seaweed wrapped around her leg, and she retreated towards the dry sand.

“Gross. I hate the ocean”

The water felt nice, however, on her burning legs, and she moved back towards the water. Soon, she was knee deep. The dipped her head underwater like a swan searching for fish. When she got back to the surface, she was tossed by a retracting wave that sent her body flying uncontrollably through the water. She could feel herself being pulled out deeper and deeper into the endless water.

On the shore, the man in the white chair noticed an arm waving above the water. He took his binoculars to get a closer look. This time, two legs were flailing and approaching the deeper and darker waters. He sounded his whistle, grabbed his red life preserver, and sprinted into the ocean.

Back on shore, the girl’s mom heard the loud whistle, and she saw everyone in the water retracting to the land. She began to search the crowd with her eyes for her daughter.

“Sarah? Where are you?”

After 30 seconds with no response, she ran towards the water to see the girl stranded, struggling for breath.

The lifeguard grabbed the girls hand and forced it to the float and began sending her back to shore to receive CPR. A huge wave swallowed them, and the man’s hand was ripped off the float. The girl remained strapped to the floating device, and her life was spared. The man, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The girl’s life was spared, and she continued her life as though nothing happened. She continued to read the book in every minute of spare time she had. One day, her mom walked in on her crying late at night in her room.

“What’s wrong, sweety”

“I was supposed to be in love with the man who saved my life! In the book, Johnny was killed in the ocean trying to save Kate’s life. That was supposed to be me! Why did he have to die? This book was written about my life, but I never got a chance to fall in love with him!”

Three days later, the man’s body was found floating to the land, holding the girl’s new favorite book.

Visual Found Poem

3 Poems with Revisions

Nature Walk- Tanka:

• Along the worn trail,

          The echoing chirp of bugs,

          Relaxes my mind,

          And as I close my soft eyes,

          My painful struggles leave me.

Nature Walk- Tanka REVISED:

• Along the worn trail,

          The deep chirps of cicadas,

          Relaxes my mind,

          And as I close my soft eyes,

          My harsh struggles soar skyward.

Rhyme- Memories:

He used to tell me all about the old times,

The days where we would spend trying to find a nice tree to climb,

In times when we could actually have a conversation,

We could accomplish anything with our imagination.

Suddenly, creating new games with friends outside,

Turned into days we would run into our rooms and just hide.

           

Now, no one is social enough to have a talk,

Or even just go outside for a walk.

We spend all of our hours behind computer screens,

Watching videos, texting friends, and shopping for jeans.

All of our lives revolve around the internet,

And no one even remembers the days we had to use a cassette.

“My dear, dear child” he always said,

“Sit right here, and don’t you fled,

Remember these words I speak,

Even though I may just seem like an antique,

After my many years of living and viewing,

Listen closely, for I know very well what I am doing.”

           

Take some time to get off your phone,

Enjoy your friends, and never waste time alone.

Live your life to the best you possibly can,

And I promise you, you will be a very wise man.

           

Rhyme- Memories REVISED:

He used to tell me all about the old times,

The days we would spend trying to find a satisfying tree to climb,

In times when we could hold a conversation,

We could accomplish anything with our imagination.

Suddenly, creating new games with friends outside,

Turned into days we go to our rooms like a turtle and hide.

           

Now, no one is social enough to have a talk,

Or even just go outside for a walk.

We spend all of our hours behind computer screens,

Watching videos, texting friends, and shopping for jeans.

All of our lives revolve around the internet,

And no one even remembers the days we had to use a cassette.

“My dear, dear child” he would always say,

“Sit right here, and stop wasting every day.

Remember these words I speak,

Even though I may just seem like an antique,

After my many years of living and viewing,

Listen closely, for I know very well what I am doing.”

           

Take some time to get off your phone,

Enjoy your friends, and never waste time alone.

Live your life to the best you possibly can,

And I promise you, you will be a very, very wise man.”         

Free Verse- Tragic Love:

It was a beautiful day when the two first met

He was beautiful, she was depressed

Somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces

they fell in faster than she fell out

His blood fell like teardrops into the porcelain sink

And down the drain without a flinch

He never felt so alive, and so alone.

Free Verse- Tragic Love REVISED:

It was an unforgettable summer day when the two first met.

She was beautiful, he was depressed.

Somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces,

Then suddenly, she moved on to a new picture.

His blood fell like teardrops into the porcelain sink,

And down the drain without a flinch.

He never felt so alive, and so alone.

Death Bed: Opposite Tone Passages

Finally, after all these years of surgery and pain, I am being put out of my misery. The doctors have finally realized that I have been through enough suffering, and they have officially given up on me. There is no hope. I will finally be able to see my old friend and mother again, and I will be healthy and happy. The doctors have tried everything, but nothing has worked and I am in more agony than ever. I am excited to see what is in store for me in the afterlife. Laying here on my death bed, I am satisfied with the life I have lived, but all good things must come to an end, right?

No! It can’t be over yet! I still have so much life left in my body, and I know I can make it through this. There must be something the doctors can do to save my life one last time. This can’t be the end. I will fight through anything. I can’t leave my father or my children to fend for themselves! They rely on me for so much, and I cannot just leave them here! No, I will fight through it. I am not giving up yet. This isn’t the end. Laying here on my death bed, I regret much of my life, and I would give anything to make it through this disease.

Tone in Scientist Excerpt

Discussing the negative effects of scientific experiments against nature in the excerpt, the narrator uses a change in point of view, imagery, and diction to reveal his attitudes towards the scientists. By describing these people in first person then transitioning into a tone which directly accuses them, the narrator uses negative words, such as “poor empty head” and “nasty science” to show his opinion on the harmful experiments the audience is using, and he gives them a clear picture of this effect. The narrator uses these techniques to portray his disapproval of these procedures in an angry and judgement tone to the reader. This excerpt is a critic of the scientists that use experiments that harm forms of nature against the narrator’s idea.

Relaxation: A 200 Word Sentence

As I lay on the warm, white Cape Cod sand, an intense sense of relaxation takes over my inert body, and as the sun glistens down on me, I can feel it’s warm rays radiating my skin, and the pointless, irritating drama going around all of my friends right now leaves; all I can imagine is my so-called happy place, and I consider the place in which I lay right now my happy place, and sweat begins dripping from my forehead, so I wander over to the vast ocean which expands for eternity, but suddenly a cold, salty wave of water hits me, so I stand up and on my way to retrieve my warm, comforting towel, a very large crab bites my leg and I scream “ouch”, but right after I scream, I come to the realization that the crab is actually a small shark and I am slowly bleeding to death; a strong, handsome lifeguard comes over to try to save my life but it is too late, I am already walking slowly towards that light, which I suppose is heaven, and I remember that I will now be able to live in that same state of peace I experienced a few moments ago for the rest of eternity. 

Just Another Stupid Boyfriend: An Angry Letter

Dear Greg,

                Although I admire the way you make my mother happy, I feel the complete opposite about you. Your effort to replace my dad is disgusting, and I do not know what my mom sees in you. All of your efforts to make me like you only makes me hate you so much more.

                As you may have noticed, every time you and your irritating children enter MY house, I run off to my room and do not leave until you decide you are done torturing my family. I make up some lame excuse such as “I need to study” but in reality, I’m just sitting there and playing on my phone.

                One horrible Saturday afternoon, my mom begged me to at least TRY to talk to you. I attempted to make her proud of me, but your stupidity was too much for me to handle. Trying to convince me that “9/11 is a conspiracy” or “the Titanic didn’t really sink” is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.

                Also, your effort to make my own mother hate me makes me want to drown your soul in a dark coffin and leave you there to die. I understand that you have a different parenting method than my mom, but I have become a great person by learning from my own mistakes. I do not need to be yelled at every five seconds for not being a perfect child. You should focus on how horrible and annoying your own kids are before worrying about me and my sister.

                YOU are the reason I never have my phone. You somehow convince my mom to take my beloved cellular device for multiple weeks. However, what you don’t know is I secretly communicate with my friends through my old phone, which I keep hidden in my room.

                What ticks me off more than anything else about you is the fact that you ENCOURAGE my sister to bully me. Telling her that I shouldn’t find it offensive when she calls me retarded, is doing the complete opposite of what my parents have been trying to teach her for years. The fact that you think its okay for her to call me these horrific names makes me want to hurl in your face.

                So, if you don’t mind, stay out of my life. I will never like you, your children, or your lack of a brain. All of your efforts to replace my dad are failing, so just leave me and my family alone.

                                                                                                                Sincerely,

                                                                                Your least favorite child in the world.

Death: Apostrophe

Sweet, sweet death. Come take me out of the stress of this appalling life I live today. Send me far into the ground, the people who live above me will appreciate it. They despise me. They would want this to happen. Each scar that lies across my wrist demonstrates an attempt to be one step closer to you. It is a ladder, slowly allowing me to become a part of you. One day, I pray I'll take the final step that will send me into your loving arms, where I belong.

Spring: Synecdoche/Metonymy

 The flowers slowly start expanding out of the delicate soil in front of my house. Only one or two begin to reveal their beautiful colors, and then it rapidly expands to a copious amount of unique flowers extending from durable and supportive roots. The children’s broad smiles complement their glittering eyes as they realize summer is approaching. The teenagers' stress increases as they realize final exams are approaching. Animals that have been concealed for numerous months ascend from their slumber to welcome this new stage of life. A calm, gentle breeze shuffles through my hair, and the ravishing odor leaves me breathless. I take a deep breath, and I absorb the appealing landscape that had been hidden by a layer of white, fluffy glaciers for what felt like an eternity. Although the time is relaxing and peaceful, it comes and goes like a bird flying south across a winter sky.

Samantha?: Unreliable Narrator

“That was two years ago, I’m fine now. Just let me leave this dump.” I’m six months sober. It’s been the worst six months of my life. Six months, five therapists, four mental breakdowns, three gruesome meals every day. Two “accidental” twelve packs and one loathsome, unsupportive wife. Samantha. I haven’t seen her since I entered this penitentiary. That’s my favorite part about being here. I never have to deal with that piece of trash. I’m actually happy she hasn’t visited me. I mean, she is the whole reason I got here in the first place.

            It all started on a rainy Monday, February 14. Since the day I started dating this cheating, lying, son of a something I will not say, the mere sight of her has made my blood boil. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t even know why I started dating her in the first place. Anyways, on that day I was going to surprise her with an extraordinary date. One unlike something she has ever been on before. I had been planning it for over a month now. It would begin at 2:00 P.M. That morning, I went to the store and bought her a huge bouquet of flowers, chocolate, and a very expensive shirt from her favorite store. I would go home, give her the presents, and bring her to Cape Cod to watch the sunset on the beach. As I entered our room, I saw something very unexpected.

“What is going on here!?” I said as I walked into our bedroom.

“It’s not what it looks like! Jim was just…umm…asking about our new lamp! Why aren’t you still at work?” she replied anxiously.

At this point, I had two decisions. Do I walk out, or do I be the responsible adult and try to work things out? My mind is racing. I have never felt this enraged and offended in my life. Samantha is a lying, deceiving, wench. I trusted her with my entire life and she turned on me at the drop of a nail. Like I meant nothing to her. And with my own brother! However, I didn’t choose to take either of those paths mentioned above…

            Two days later the invitation came. “In loving memory of Jim Walter.” This statement was followed by a gruesome image of him. In just a week, he will be six feet underground, where he belongs.

            They don’t know it was me. Not yet, at least. Samantha has been in a coma for three weeks. I wish she’d just die already. I want to visit her in the hospital to finish what I started, but then they will know I am guilty.

            I conclude that it is my best interest to live the rest of my days as a free man on the streets of Boston. It’s where I belong, and they will never find me. Samantha. The word echoes in my head for weeks on weeks. Flashbacks play on repeat in my brain. If she were here, in front of me right now, waves of cruel words would flow out of my mouth with no regret.

“So, how was your night with that drunken gorilla you always used to throw yourself at?” I would begin.

            I wish I never even met her. She was the biggest waste of my time. After just a week and a half of living on the streets, I gained a thirst unlike any other. Not for water or that special juice Samantha drank to lose weight (which did not work out for her), but for something a little more satisfying. One night, around 11:00, I wondered into a bar. The alluring taste of the beverages made me keep wanting more. It washed all my worries about that idiotic woman for about a night. When the pain she brought me came back, I would go back to the bar. This repeated until I basically lived in that place.

            One night, about 1 year after the incident, she found me.

“I’m very sorry! We hadn’t even gotten that far yet, we had just walked into the bedroom! Give me one more chance, you won’t regret it,” she yelled.

            I was so close to strangling my next victim, right there on the streets of Boston. Life would be so much better with her gone anyways. I straggled around the streets until I had walked the same course three times. How could she do that? I was still in awe as I passed out on the street.

            I woke up in a dungeon. Barbed wire fences, plain gray walls, one single bed. A middle aged woman walked in. She started to talk endlessly about her plans for me in this appalling enclosure.

“Mr. Walter. How are you today? Before you freak out, I just want to let you know that here; you have all the support you need to make it through your journey of recovery!”

            I shouldn’t even be here. That wrench is the reason I’m here. Do they know what I did? Do they know it was HER fault, not mine?

            I waited weeks for a sign, a signal, anything, that Samantha was still alive. Karma has probably gotten to her at this point. I’m extremely grateful that she hasn’t showed up; who knows what would happen if we were left alone in an empty room?

            Why am I still here? The bountiful amount of unanswered questions attempt to kill my brain. This is worse than death. Trapped. No sign of leaving anytime soon. The grotesque woman who slaughtered my heart is also beginning to take over my brain. Thoughts of our moments before the attack slowly come back. The mere appearance of her in my brain makes me cringe.

            A knock on the door. I glance out towards the door. A black and blue, starved, beaten up woman stares back at me.

Samantha?