"Ah, Miss Steegel, come in." I stood and made my way into the office of Steve Gardener, my boss's, boss's, boss; the man currently in charge of my future.

"Sty-gle," I corrected gently, not bothering to correct his use of "Miss" as well. I took his hand in a brisk shake.

"Yes, sorry. Anway, I wanted to talk to you personally about the position you had applied for." Gardener wasted no time getting right down to business, not that I had expected any less. Or any other outcome.

"The panel has finished debating and, while we are grateful for your time and appreciate all you'd have to offer in this new role, we feel that another candidate is a better fit. You really seem to have found your niche in your current position and it would be an utter shame to lose your skills."

I knew it. "I see. Well, I appreciate you taking the time to inform me of this decision yourself. Just so I know for future reference, is there anything I could do to better myself as a candidate?"

"You have a lot of great skills. We just went in a different direction. Doug- er, Dr. Danielson, just has the type of something we are looking for."

"I see." I said again, working to keep my voice even. I knew it would be Doug.

"He's got the experience, education, and initiative we are looking for."

"Doug is a good worker. That is why I served as a reference after his internship under me," I reminded him.

"Of course. Well, I don't want to keep you. I'm sure you have plenty to attend to. But thank you for your interest in the position and keep up the good work, Miss..." he hesitated, clearly about to get my name wrong again.

"Stygle." I interjected. "Dr. Annabel Stygle."

"Oh, you have your doctorate as well?"

"Yes." I say with a fake smile. "Same degree as Doug's, in fact." And with that I stood and left the office.

I passed Doug in the hallway, only a few years my junior, and generally a decent guy, he gave me a small smile. I forced myself to return it and continued to the door as Gardener came out of his office.

"Dougy, my man! Your dad is meeting me for tee-off at 10 tomorrow! Will I see you there?"

"Of course! I'm meeting him after I take off today. He's out on the course today as well! The hard life of a retiree, right!" Doug replied, conversationally.

I left the office and the men reminisced about the days when Mr. Danielson was still a regular at the office and finalized their golf plans for the following day.

As I returned to my office, my friend Tammy looked up at me eagerly, "Well?" she demanded.

"They went with Doug." I stated plainly.

"Oh," She said, surpised. "Really? I mean, Doug is great, but you've been here longer. I would have thought you'd be a shoo-in. Did they give you a reason why?"

"Not particularly. Although I do suspect a large part of the reason is because I don't golf."

I know it's rough. It was just something that was rolling around in my head that I wanted to get to "paper". Thanks for reading.

Dash Radloff drove through the pothole-plagued streets of the trailer park just outside his home town, wincing every time his Lexus jerked. He had a hard grip on the steering wheel, nervous, not just because he hadn't actually had to drive himself anywhere in a good 10 years, but also because he hadn't seen Sarah in about as long. How many kids did she have now? Three? Five? Surely it was less than six...

His steering wheel jerked and his car veered to the left as his wheel caught a particularly large pothole. His knuckles blanched as he ripped the wheel back the other direction, overcorrecting a little but at least avoiding the hole with his rear tire.

"Now where is Sarah's place?" he muttered to himself. "209, 211, 213, did I miss it?" He came to an intersection and looked at the street signs with a sigh. He wasn't even on the right road. He hoped this wasn't an omen that this whole venture was a mistake. He turned and looped back around the park until he found the road he was looking for. He pulled up to trailer 129, the numbers in this place made no sense, and he got out of the car. He was surprised to see a few boxes outside and furniture lining the road that looked like it was meant to be picked up by the trash, but no moving truck. Didn't Sarah say that they had to be out by tomorrow?

Dash straightened his name-brand track jacket as he got out of the car, glancing around to see if anyone was watching him. They weren't. Disappointed, he made his way to the door and knocked, putting on an air of confidence and congeniality he did not posses.

A small face peeked out from behind bent blinds and disappeared. He heard a few voices yelling and then after about a minute, the door opened and there was Sarah.

"Dash?" She seemed surprised. "You're actually here?"

"Yes? You called me, Sarah. Should I not have come?"

Sarah composed herself quickly, "Oh, no, I'm thrilled to have you," she did not look it, "it's just...so strange to actually see you in person again. You know, usually we see you through a screen." She gave him an awkward half-smile.

"Well, you know me. You called, and I came. Anything for my baby sister!" Dash said with false enthusiasm, reaching towards Sarah with his arms open wide. Sarah saw his intent just a moment too late and had her arms pinned down by his, leaving her to awkwardly pat his side in an attempt to return the one-sided hug.

She pulled back quickly, "Please, Dash, come in." She gestured behind her into the trailer.

Dash stepped in to the dark trailer and looked around. Open boxes and plastic bags cluttered most surfaces. A boy of about 10 was eyeing him from a worn sofa, half star-struck, half unsure. In the narrow hallway to his right stood a pre-teen girl with greasy hair holding another small boy of about 2 or 3. Movement on his left caught his eye as he saw another boy clamber on top of the counter in nothing but his underwear. He was holding a jar of peanut butter and eating straight from it with a spoon. He was the one Sarah spotted first.

"Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you? You don't climb on the counters!"

"And put some clothes on, you freak!" piped up the older boy.

"Michael," Sarah said in a warning tone as she rushed to shoo Tommy from the kitchen. Michael rolled his eyes and returned his wide eyes to Dash, apparently unsure what to say.

"So, I suppose you haven't met anyone other than Kaylynn," she said, nodding to the girl in the hallway, "and that was so long ago. This is my son Michael," she gestured to the boy on the sofa, "the little one is Danny, and the feral one is Tommy."

"You've sure got your hands full," Dash replied. So it was only four kids, thank goodness. Michael was the one he'd been thinking of. He would likely be a good candidate for Dash's plan.

Sara started to roll her eyes but seemed to catch herself. "Well, you must be busy with your three."

Dash hesitated, "Yes, Fiona's girls are very busy. They are always off to their camps and clubs. They sure keep Marietta busy! We've had to raise her salary several times over the past year alone!" He grimaced. It was probably in poor taste to talk about things like housekeepers and money when one's sister is about to lose her home. He noticed Sarah's face falter briefly before her smile snapped back into place. She must have thought it was in poor taste too.

Dash clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eager to change the subject. "Well, why don't we get started. What can I help with?"

"I could use some help getting some of the bigger furniture to the road."

"When will the moving truck get here? Wouldn't it be better to wait until then to move the big stuff?"

Sarah sighed. "Dash, why don't we start in the bedroom. We can talk there."

Sarah led the way to the opposite end of the trailer to her bedroom. The bed had been made almost to a standard that would have made Marietta proud. Clothes were stacked on top of the dresser and half-filled boxes littered the floor. She had also laid out an open suitcase and a large black garage bag. The small closet stood open and had already been mostly emptied with the exception of a thick coat. Sarah plopped onto the bed with her head in her hands.

"Sarah?"

"There is no moving truck, Dash," she mumbled into her hands. "We have nowhere to go when we leave tomorrow."

"But why are you moving out?"

Sarah looked up at him like he was stupid. "We have no choice. I haven't been able to make rent since Rick left. All of my money has been tied up in the divorce. We are being evicted. I'm out of options. I need help." She looked at him intensely then, pleading. "We need help."

The reason for her call after all these years finally clicked in Dash's head. She was hoping her big-shot, world-famous, actor, big brother would come and bail her out. The fact that she had waited so long to ask for money said something about her pride. A few months ago, he would have asked what sum she needed, doubled it, and handed her a check without a second's thought. Now, though. Things were a little different. This changed his plan a little, but, he thought, he could still make things work in his favor.

"Um, well, I could bring you all out to live with us in California. I'm sure Fiona would have no problem with putting you all up out there and sending the kids to a nice school like her girls go to. I had been thinking of offering anyway, to take one of the boys, probably the oldest, to get a proper education. You know how Fiona always liked to help ... less fortunate youth."

"You were thinking I'd just send Michael halfway across the country at 10 years old?" She asked incredulously.

"Well, it'd give him a better shot in life. I know I made it out of this town, but not many do."

"So you want a token child to save to help repair your image." Her tone had changed drastically. It had definitely moved into disapproving territory. I had hoped she hadn't heard the rumors.

"You say it like I'm so selfish. It would benefit him too. And you. It would be one less mouth to feed. But, I'm sure I could convince Fiona to let you all come back with me, given the circumstances."

"Dash," She said wearily, "it's a kind offer, even if it's made out of a desire to save your own skin, but we simply can't. I have a job here. It wouldn't be fair to let the kids lose their friends and their school when they are already losing so much."

"Well, what would you like me to do? "

She bit her lip. "Well, I was actually hoping for some money. Anything would help, but..." she paused and looked up at him with a pained expression, "I was actually wondering if you would buy us a house and possibly give us a few months worth of financial assistance. I hate asking, Dash, I really do. I'm just out of options." Tears began to stream down her face and her voice grew more ragged as she talked.

Dash watched, pity filling his mind. Embarrassment and disappointment followed. "What about a new rental?" he asked awkwardly. "Wouldn't that be more affordable?"

"The rent is terrible out here, Dash!" She said, frustration coloring her voice now. "More than a mortgage payment! Not that there are any places to rent around here anyway. Believe me, I've looked. Money is what would help, Dash. For a house, even just enough for a room at the motel for a few months while I save up and look for a place out of town. The divorce should be done by April..."

"I could try to ask Fiona. I mean, it shouldn't cost that much out here. But wouldn't it just be easier coming to live with me?"

"No, besides, Rick would never let me move out of state with the kids, if for no other reason than to spite me. Why would that be easier for you than just giving us some money?"

"Fiona actually handles all of the finances. She put everything in her name after I got in trouble with gambling a few years ago. I agreed at the time to keep her happy. I never thought it would be a problem. If I called and asked for money now, though, she probably wouldn't believe me. She'd probably just think I was making up excuses to get some money out of her. But if I came back with real people who needed help, I know she wouldn't be able to resist."

"So, are the rumors true, then?"

Dash grimaced. "Depends which ones you are talking about," he replied defensively. Yes, Fiona and I are separated and she is currently leaning towards divorce. But that doesn't mean I cheated or even touched that girl, or woman!"

"If the accusations aren't true, why did Fiona leave and cut you off?"

"It's all her friends! They got in her head. I was only ever professional with my female coworkers on set! Ginny should have known that from when we worked together, but instead she went around claiming that I had made moves on her too!" Dash exploded.

"Dash, quiet!" Sarah hissed. "I've been trying to keep the kids away from the news! I don't want them to think their uncle is guilty of all that. They idolize you so much."

"So, you won't move-"

"Can't move," Sarah interrupted.

"Can't move," he amended, "and I have no money to help you." Dash sighed. "Well, what can I do?"

"You can help me move all this shit to the curb. If the trailer isn't cleaned out by the end of the day tomorrow, I'm getting charged for the crew and dumpster the landlord has to pay for to remove everything."

"What are you taking with you?" Dash asked sadly.

"Whatever essentials we can fit in the van. I guess I have no choice but to drop the kids off with Rick. Hopefully he will take them and not refuse just to make my lift harder. Hopefully living in my van will be enough for him."

Dash grew angry, "What is his problem? What kind of man would allow his ex wife and kids to be put on the street?"

"A terrible one. I wish I could have seen it when I married him. But he hid it, or he changed. Or both, I don't know." With one deep inhale, Sarah stood up, "Well, we might as well get to work."

Dash helped Sarah fill trash bags with any clothes or items that didn't fit in her suitcase or the few small boxes she labeled as "keep." The rest, as well as the furniture, was moved to the curb with a sign on it saying "Trash Pickup" and then in parentheses underneath, "Or free for anyone in need." "Might as well let our misfortune help someone else," Sarah said. When they were done, all that was left was the suitcase, the mattress, and a pillow and blanket.

Next, they tackled the kitchen. Most of the food were cans and jars that Sarah had gotten from the food pantry. They packed as much into boxes as we could and put it in the van along with a handful of dish-ware and utensils. They left the gallon of milk and a box of cereal for the kids to have the next morning before they left. The living room and the kids rooms were the hardest. Even though the oldest kids understood what was happening, removing anything of theirs that didn't it in their backpacks or a few trash bags was met with screaming and crying as their lives were slowly moved to the curb.

Sarah, to her credit, showed incredible patience and restraint, doing her best to calm the kids and explain the situation again and again. Dash had a feeling that the kids no longer idolized him as Sarah had said. He felt overwhelmed with guilt as their betrayed faces watched him. They were the same expressions Fiona's girls had as she'd removed them from their house and away from the man they had considered a father figure, however distant he had been, for the past 10 years. He'd been all they had.

The trailer was bare by the time they were done. Sarah left the TV and the DVD player with a few movies to pacify the kids. Sleeping bags and mattresses were the only things left on the floor of their rooms. The boxes and furniture outside had creeped slowly towards the neighbors yards as the pile grew.

Dash was mostly broke, but he did still have a credit card that Fiona paid as long as the charges were reasonable daily expenses. That was how he'd had the gas to get out to his home town. He treated the family to pizza, he figured that would't get flagged as odd by Fiona, and it was at least one thing he could do.

"I could probably put you up in the motel for a few nights. Anything more than a couple hundred dollars would get flagged by Fiona, but I should be able to do that

much."

Sarah looked at him grateful for even a few more nights in bed. "Thanks, Dash. I do appreciate it. I'm glad you came out. It's been nice to see you."

She walked him to the door. "I'll get a room tonight and let them know you are coming tomorrow," he assured her. "I'll come by to help you get settled then."

"Thanks, Dash."

"Are you sure you can't come to California? I've at least got a big old house with some empty rooms." He figured one last try wouldn't hurt.

"Thank you, but no. We really can't. Well, I guess we will see you tomorrow. Goodnight." She reached out to hug him, but it seemed a little more genuine this time. Dash returned the hug. "Goodnight, Sarah."

As promised, Dash checked into the motel and made sure to pay for the room for a a few more nights for Sarah. He looked around the dingy room. He couldn't believe that he, Dash Radloff, was sitting in this poor excuse for accommodations. As he lie back on his bed, he thought of how he got here. He hadn't believed that girl had claimed he tried to force himself on her. She had clearly been into it at the time. Of course, none it mattered to Fiona. He had broken her trust. And now he'd lost his last-ditch effort to get her back.

His thoughts drifted to his niece and nephews' faces as he'd packed up their belongings. He felt such a deep pit in his stomach. He really couldn't get anything right anymore, could he.

Suddenly, he sat up, determined. He picked up his phone and called Marietta, who'd left with Fiona. Fiona had blocked his number, but Marietta picked up. Dash quickly explained his sister's predicament to her and asked for her to put him in touch with Fiona. Marietta promised to relay his message, but wasn't able to promise Fiona would call. Dash thanked her and hung up the phone.

He was just drifting to sleep when the phone rang. Fiona's name flashed on his screen with a picture of her beautiful face. Swallowing his pride, he answered the phone as butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

"Hello?"

"Dash," was all she said in reply.

"Fiona, I really need your help."

Our eyes met. I flicked my wrist and glanced down at my watch.

She shrugged with a sympathetic half-smile.

I rolled my eyes as she returned her attention again to the speaker.

Tapping at my watch again, I let out the breath I'd been holding in a huff.

She reached over and tapped my hand gently, then followed up with a squeeze, never looking away from the speaker.

I shifted in my chair, first leaning back, then sitting forward and placing my arms on the table in front of me, then sitting back again with my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

She looked at the clock in the room and put a hand on my shoulder.

I glanced at her.

She made eye contact and nodded. We were both standing before the bell rang and were the first out the door.

She took my hand, giving me the first genuine smile I'd seen in the past 2 hours, and we pushed through the doors into our freedom.

This has been brewing for a long time. I think it is time for an upgrade. You were good to start out, but now I am ready for more. I need more than you can give me. I need something stronger, faster. I need options. I want something I can be proud of, not something old and dirty that I need to hide.

You used to be my comfort, but now you won't turn on for me anymore. I should have known you would fail me when I stole you from my sister. You just don't taste the same anymore.

A mere three days ago, my world had changed forever. My mom announced her decision to file for divorce. My dad claimed he wouldn't let it happen. He was convinced he would somehow change her mind. But it was done. This wasn't a sudden decision. Even if he couldn't see it, I could.

My father had, of course, reached out to his own mother for support. Today, my grandmother had shown up unannounced with old photo albums, depicting various points in time in my childhood. I pressed myself against my closed bedroom door, listening intently. I was desperate to know what was happening but afraid to be pulled into the fray. I could hear them talking as Grandma flipped through the albums.

"Look, here. You always looked so happy."

"But a picture never tells the whole story. Anyone can fake it for a picture. Like this one here, I specifically remember that day. I had the kids all gathered and waiting. He was refusing to show up, saying it was stupid to take the picture. He had wanted us to stay home that day. When he finally showed up and you asked where he had been, he blamed me in front of his whole family saying that I just sprung the picture on him and that he was always waiting for me. That was how it was every time. That's how it has been for 17 years."

She was right. The pictures only showed a brief moment in time. It didn't show the struggles leading up to it, or the fights on the way home. It didn't show that after the picture was taken, he drifted away again, leaving Mom to wrestle four kids into coats and herd them towards the car. It didn't show the uncomfortable ride home where he complained the whole time that going there was stupid. It didn't show that he complained that she had spent too much money on Christmas again that year. It didn't show that the while he complained about her Christmas purchases, he spent his time watching porn online instead of looking for a new job.

Each picture showed a lie. After the picture was done and the audience was gone, the story changed. There was always a fight in progress, an argument, a battle. In the picture of him smiling holding a new little baby, no one would know that he later told that baby's mother that he wouldn't give her money for diapers. She should have planned better for her maternity leave. The diapers were her expense. In the picture of us on vacation, no one would know that she had to save up all of her own money, while still paying for school supplies, lunches, and bills, while his money went into a separate account. No one would know that he left after the picture, basically spending our whole family vacation on his own.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but how can that be when pictures are silent? Pictures can be faked, just like a happy marriage. Each picture showed something different, but they never told the whole story, the true story.

Can you truly judge a life based on a picture?

@AJAY9979

Warm little bodies curled up against mine

Wide, trusting eyes

Eager faces

Curiosity

Playfulness

It is easy to remember that this world still has glimmers of goodness, joy, and hope when you are loved by a dog.

I sit physically paralyzed by indecision

I tremble with worry

I can’t focus

It is all just too much

It never stops

Agonizing thoughts drag my all-too submissive brain along for the ride

They come pouring down without apology

I stand in the direct spout of a running faucet of all-consuming despair

Each droplet that hits my body stinging with self-criticism

The droplets rush so fast I am in danger of drowning

I try to pull myself out, try to refocus on something else

Instead I am now locked onto a train with no brakes

It rushes faster and faster

Running, running, running

Charging ahead towards an inevitable fall, for the bridge is out

The bridge is out and I cannot stop the train

It continues running with it’s own self-sustaining fuel

The bridge grows ever closer

I turn and try to run back through the train cars, away from the severed bridge

I run backwards thruogh a charging train making no progress

I can’t even sustain a pace to match the train so much that I should make no gains

No, instead I am pulled backwards

My running is for naught

I am running in the wrong direction

I am not strong enough to best the forces pulling me inevitably in the opposite direction

I near the bridge and the sink fills with water

I can’t run anymore

The house felt still and dark as she moved around completing menial tasks.She straightened a table cloth, dusted off a lamp, wiped down a picture frame, all in a feeble attempt to stay busy. As she moved past the sofa, her hand hovered briefly over a small crumpled blanket that draped over the back. It was a once oft-occupied spot that now lay vacant except for a few stray hairs. She let her hand drop.

Darkness slowly crept into the room arching it's back before stretching out to its full length and kneeding it’s way into every nook and crany. She didn’t turn on the light. The light would only reveal the lingering emptiness, the reminder of what was missing.

She moved into the kitchen. The setting sun still peeked through the window, casting a fading orange light over the little room. Ghostly vibrissae stretched across the table cloth from the spiny leaves of the plan in the window sill. She got out a cup and saucer. She replaced the saucer and, moving to the refrigerator, poured a cup of milk. It was a nightly routine.

When finished, she immediately washed, dried, and put away her cup before she realized that it didn't matter anymore. Now there was no reason to worry about keeping dishes out of the sink. Her knotted and bent hands petted the dishcloth as she stared out the little window. She would have to turn on a light soon.

Grudgingly, she turned on a little table lamp in the sitting room. That would be all. In the darkness, her toe hit a small purple ball. It rolled a way, the little bell inside tinkling familiarily. Without washing up or putting on a night dress, she laid down in her bed and watched the ceiling fan turn slowly. A shadowy tail flicked across her vision as her windsock blew in the night and passed through the beam of a street light. At her age, she had learned that all things must come to an end. In truth, she knew her own would likely not be far off. But for now, she could remember. She drifted off to sleep with dreams of comfort and companionship.