Wordspill: HolidayHolidaySpill:His heart was still pounding from the altercation he had that morning. He hated confrontation. But he had to do do his best to get the holiday lsot. Not susually a problemIt wasn’t usually a problem. No one wanted to work on the holiday but the new guy seemed desperate for extra hours. It was annoying. He’d pressured him for a good ten minutes until he’d had to give in. He didn’t wat to make a scene.All day he brooded over the lost work. It wasn’t the pay for him. The overtime was nothing to him, but the access, the being at the crematorium was supremely important. It was his routine his schedule. His hold on sanity, if truth be told.It was also his hunger slaking, but he would never express that truth, even to himself.Now what was he to do? The holiday was a full week. An entire week lost. Separated and adrift. What was he to do? What did other people spend their holidays doing, anyway?He would seek solace where he could:
Wordspill: MysteryMysterySpill:“Woohoo! Early let out!” Sasha burst into the room and let out an explosive sigh. “Ahhh!”She flopped down on the bed, forcing Mary to scoot ouver hastily. “Isn’t it great?”“Yeah,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.“Hey, what’s with that backpack?” Sasha rolled on ot her belly to crawl forward and pick up the bag leaning against the other side of the bed. “Whose-? Oh God!”She leapt from the bed. “No, no, no! He’s here? Again?”“He’s just hanging out for a bit, that’s all.”“Why did you let him come here? He was in our room!”“It’s not a big deal.”“It’s horribly! God, I don’t understand why you’re friends with him.”“I’m not friends with him. He just … hangs around.”“And you let him! It’s gross, just like everything about him.”Mary snorted.
Sports 2SportsSpill:She lingered at the chainlink fence, watching the little kids play soccer. She smiled when the goalie threw himself to the ground dramatically but still missed the block. The handful of parents in the bleachers whooped. She couldn’t tell which team was home.She sighed.What an awful day.Sherelived the horror of English class as the miniature soccer game played out in front of her, her eyes unfocused. The class discussion hadn’t been too bad and it seemed like Mr. R was actually encouraging her feedback. Her opinions differing so much from the others suddenly seemed like an asset rather than ahandicap. But then he handed back their papers from last week. She couldn’t believe it. She’d actualaly tried this time. Really tried. She’d neglected her math homework and stayed up all night finishing the stupid essay. WHow could it end up her worst grade yet?The other team scored a goal. The thread roar from the stands was wlamost comedic. She