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My stories...

Dear,                                                                                                                                                                                                (novel)

....“My albatross and now yours, if you want it.” Virginia slid her fingertips from under the weighty envelope and reached for her pack of cigarettes. Her fingers itched for something to do. But she sighed again knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to smoke in this kitchen. She tugged out a stick anyway and began sliding it between her fingers, occasionally tapping the end of it on the table. The scent of tobacco was strong. Her pulse quickened. Don’t take the envelope, she screamed silently. Save yourself the trouble, Virginia thought. Jackie avoided asking what was in the envelope by watching her tap the cigarette.

            Virginia was sixty-two today. This girl couldn’t be more than twenty, she thought. She doesn’t know who she is yet, she doesn’t know what she’s up against, she thought. Virginia tapped the cigarette back into its pack. She stood then tucked in the bit of white silk blouse that had crept up over her waistband. She was a tidy woman, who liked to keep up appearances.

            Jackie, the girl, sat waiting. 

Heart of the Jungle                                                                                                                                                        (screenplay)

... Stuart puts his arm around Manny’s shoulder:

 

STUART

I’ve always been fond of the South American jungle in Mexico. Lots of ruins. Is that where you’re from originally?

 

Manny rolls his eyes. The men step off-screen into dining room.

 

MANNY

I was born in Mexico City, as was Isabel. Mexico may be a poor country, Mr. Thornton, but it is not in ruins.

 

STUART

Oh, no, of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply… hell, we have plenty of people on welfare here too.

 

MANNY

Being poor in this country and being on welfare is no longer synonymous, Mr. Thornton. But to live on welfare? The welfare line is where Hope goes to die, sir. We would never be caught dead in that line.

Legend of Hawehgama                                                                                                                                                               (novel)

...    He was born with a gift my mother didn’t have. He was born without hatred.

       Sebastian stood at the top directing those with offerings to the Gods inside the chamber of a bleached-white pueblo. His long arm extended at a right angle to his long, thin body – his first finger almost a tentacle lengthened by the sun behind him. He smiled while he directed them, a gracious, accepting smile, as if he were receiving the gifts himself. I stood at a distance on a grassy hill. I waited for him to finish with his imaginary citizens. He was supposed to come to the valley with me today. He was supposed to help me build a fort. I waited for him for what seemed like days under a hot sun. But I couldn’t be angry with him, never for long anyway. He had a way of making you feel fortunate. When he was around laughter and joy came with him. Love. Acceptance. I felt that, even as a little girl. I wanted to be him, but I never wanted him to cease to be. Could there be two of him in the world? Did the world have room for two of us?

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