Annmarie's Blog

His stare gripped me. Intelligent and intense, yet gentle. A cold had kidnapped his voice and the sound of bowling balls and people cheering didn’t

Sitting hunched over in the dark cubicle with its broken metal file drawers and plastic stackers, I wondered if leaving the reliable Easy Listening station

My first exposure to prostitution was in the mid-1970s, a time when seatbelts were an accessory—not a necessity, bangs were feathered like Farrah’s, and phones

Mister Rogers’ neighborhood mesmerized me when I was a child. I dreamed of living there, of having everything in my life in perfect order, of

The No-End Ending             Some stories have happy and satisfying endings. Others do not, leaving us breathless and with our hearts on the floor. Then

A bright blue tarp hung over the high-pitched roof, corners of it flapping in the wind like a flag waving at passersby. It was as

The note read… My Name is Larry. I live at Rosemont Home. If you find me, please call this number for help. Sweet Larry didn’t

I don’t remember the exact year, but I won’t forget the summer, itself. It was the early 2000s, and sweltering and unrelenting heat had driven

Part 2 / Cont’d “Boy George” At this point I wasn’t just second-guessing my decision to fly home, I was fully and absolutely regretting it.