I am rarely taken aback, but yesterday I was speechless for a moment when I was renewing my driver’s license and was asked, “Are you currently addicted to drugs?” “I’m sorry,” said the young woman behind the desk, “but we have to ask you this question.” “No, I’m not.” “Some people say yes,” she told me. It’s a wild world.
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When I saw the self-addressed stamped envelope from the Florida Review, I could tell by the thinness of its contents that they’d accepted my story. The editor said it will appear in their summer issue and they’ll pay me $90. After six months and a dozen rejections, this story finally got accepted.
Afterwards, like a typical male, I just wanted to fall asleep holding her, so I asked her to spend the night. I always seem to sleep soundly when Ronna is in bed with me. She was hard to wake up, but at 7:15 AM, I started touching her feet with mine, and gradually, body part by body part, I got her up so she could walk back to her apartment and get ready for work.