About the Stage
FEBRUARY 21, 2014 BY KGWAITE@GMAIL.COM
About the Stage
The trains stopped running that day. Ice on the pantographs, those arms that reach to touch overhead wires and conduct 700 volts into the cars.
Not today.
Temple University to Suburban Station. A twelve-minute ride.
Not today.
He’d asked her to meet him at Love Park at noon. She’d agreed, with the caveat that he not be late.
She liked to be in control.
When she was three, her father built a raised wooden platform in the family garage. He lined the walls with mirrors and lights, displacing the Taurus and the rusting Skyhawk they’d inherited from her grandmother. He disgorged the messiness of their lives—shovels and rakes and gallons of dried paint beneath a blue tarp—onto the lawn which browned and muddied.To read more, click here.
About the Stage
The trains stopped running that day. Ice on the pantographs, those arms that reach to touch overhead wires and conduct 700 volts into the cars.
Not today.
Temple University to Suburban Station. A twelve-minute ride.
Not today.
He’d asked her to meet him at Love Park at noon. She’d agreed, with the caveat that he not be late.
She liked to be in control.
When she was three, her father built a raised wooden platform in the family garage. He lined the walls with mirrors and lights, displacing the Taurus and the rusting Skyhawk they’d inherited from her grandmother. He disgorged the messiness of their lives—shovels and rakes and gallons of dried paint beneath a blue tarp—onto the lawn which browned and muddied.To read more, click here.
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