#french

He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it.

Dave watched as the forest burned up on the hill, only a few miles from her house. The car had been hastily packed and Marta was inside trying to round up the last of the pets. Dave went through his mental list of the most important papers and documents that they couldn't leave behind. He scolded himself for not having prepared these better in advance and hoped that he had remembered everything that was needed. He continued to wait for Marta to appear with the pets, but she still was nowhere to be seen.

She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.

There was only one way to do things in the Statton house. That one way was to do exactly what the father, Charlie, demanded. He made the decisions and everyone else followed without question. That was until today.

She was in a hurry. Not the standard hurry when you're in a rush to get someplace, but a frantic hurry. The type of hurry where a few seconds could mean life or death. She raced down the road ignoring speed limits and weaving between cars. She was only a few minutes away when traffic came to a dead standstill on the road ahead.

She had a terrible habit o comparing her life to others. She realized that their life experiences were completely different than her own and that she saw only what they wanted her to see, but that didn't matter. She still compared herself and yearned for what she thought they had and she didn't.

He couldn't remember exactly where he had read it, but he was sure that he had. The fact that she didn't believe him was quite frustrating as he began to search the Internet to find the article. It wasn't as if it was something that seemed impossible. Yet she insisted on always seeing the source whenever he stated a fact.

He wandered down the stairs and into the basement. The damp, musty smell of un-use hung in the air. A single, small window let in a glimmer of light, but this simply made the shadows in the basement deeper. He inhaled deeply and looked around at a mess that had been accumulating for over 25 years. He was positive that this was the place he wanted to live.

It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.

She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.