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I looked at him. Nothing could describe how scornful I felt. I despised him and all that he stood for. All I had asked him to do was to give me the necessary information. Even that was too much for him without lying. Why does he constantly lie? Is there no other way that he can interact with people? It’s as if he is always afraid of saying the worng thing so he m,akes something up or denies what he ahs been doing.

Posted By Rosemary Quinn On 04.24.2012 @ 4:08 am

The sunglasses glittered in the noon sun. It was the beginning of siesta and hardly anone was on the streets. He stood on the corner of La via Magdalena, his pale face incongruous in a city of such heat. The last time he had been here he had met Annamaria. He thought now of her black hair, her gold sandals and that look of sweet innocence that had drawn him to her.

Posted By Rosemary Quinn On 04.19.2012 @ 7:20 am

There was only one earring in the box. I knew there had been another the last time I looked but hey when you have three little granddaughters in the house who’se to know who stole what? I asked of course, you would wouldn’t you, and brought forth a chorus of “It wasn’t me”‘s and then floods of tears. I didn’t really care about the earring since it was only cheap plastic. Well it did have a history of sorts. I always buy mysef earrings when I visit a new place and these had been purchased in Portugal the first and only time I’d been there.

Posted By Rosemary Quinn On 04.17.2012 @ 4:13 am