It was my senior year playing women's basketball at a State College. My name is Lindy Clarke and I was one of the starting five.
We were a good team, but a little short to excel in the conference playoff tournament--just suburban girls having a good time. We all could dribble, and pass and play defense, but we were outmatched in spite of our athleticism and good coaching.
Tucker Williams almost missed his flight. His mind was a thousand miles away as they called for the last passengers to board the flight for San Diego. If it hadn't been for the attentive gate agent, he might have been staring into the distance while his flight rolled down the runway without him. Shocked back into the moment by a gentle tap on his shoulder, he quickly grabbed his backpack and boarded the flight just as they were closing the doors.
Pain scorched the young man's esophagus. Pain burned the inside of his mouth. Good old pain. The young man welcomed the awful smell that accompanied the pain. "Pain is weakness leaving your body," several of his coaches had quoted to him. This time, pain was empty calories and disfiguring fat leaving his body. The pain and the scent were signals. He was fighting to maintain what mattered.
I was sitting on the back porch of my wife's uncle's house in western Nebraska, enjoying the sun and unseasonably warm temperature along with a cold beer and a cigar. It was Saturday afternoon and we'd been out hunting pheasant since early that morning but, after lunch, my father-in-law and his brothers had decided a power nap was in order. I decided instead to take advantage of perhaps my last opportunity for a few months to sit outside in just cargo pants and a t-shirt.
I had known Christa for years before she ever came out. Not only had I harbored a bit of a crush on her, but even my wife once told her that, if anything was to ever happen to her, Christa had her blessing to take her place. We had a lot in common and it always surprised me that some lucky guy hadn't scooped her up.
I worked in an office for a manufacturing company. We made paper products. The building was offsite from the plant and there were only a few people in my office. The boss, or Queen Bee, as I thought of her, was a sharp blonde with a caustic demeanor. She was constantly trying to intimidate me and berated me when she felt moved to. I let her push me around. It turned me on to think of myself as submissive to a female boss lady.