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Dive into the whimsical world of Microstories, where humor meets heartfelt introspection in a delightful exploration of life's intricate tapestry. From the quirks of childhood to the trials of parenthood and the dance of marriage, my candid tales invite us to reflect and laugh as we navigate the earnest endeavor of getting it all right.

Best Man

I don’t want to be here. But if I didn’t agree to stand up for them, I’d be the messy one. Not my ex and my brother exchanging rings, but me. I can’t even look her in the eye. How am I supposed to get through family gatherings knowing what my brother’s wife looks and sounds like when she cums, when I make her cum? I don’t want her. I also don’t want to know that about any woman in the family. It’s unnatural. The only thing worse is cutting Curtis off when he overshares about her. But I’m here. Doing the right thing. Always doing the right thing. Hope I can get through the damn toast with a straight face. 


Who’d’ve thunk? Marrying my soulmate today. Paul seems over the messiness. The living is good. Mom’s smiling. Chelsea’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to get her out of that dress. Damn. I’m a lucky man. 


Perfect. Everything is perfect. Curtis and I are meant to be. Paul is coming around. At least he stopped being ridiculous. What’s the big deal? All of us have dated other people. Sure. Them being brothers was uncomfortable, but whatever. That couldn’t be helped. I hope the caterer brought extra ice. It’s unseasonably hot today. 


Barry couldn’t help feeling the occasion was anticlimactic. He’d been doing the work for years. After his second divorce, a stilted relationship with his daughter, and numerous lost friendships, he stopped abusing substances and people. Walking out of his last counseling session felt odd. Sure, there’s be check-ins, but he was done with therapy. The twice-a-week, then weekly appointments yielded to bimonthly, then monthly. He no longer had a standing appointment. Shouldn’t it be marked with more than a handshake and a “Good work”? He’d repaired his relationships with his brothers and apologized to those who would listen. Priscilla wasn’t interested. Dr. Core advised that he leave his second ex-wife and only love alone. Barry did. But he couldn’t show the same restraint with his daughter, Luna. As he left the office building, he called her, “Hey, Kiddo. I have news to celebrate. You’re the only person I want to share it with. Have time for your dad today?” The wait felt like an eternity, “OK, Daddy. I’m off this afternoon. I can meet you for a bit…Umm…Glad you called.” 


Calvin was used to sitting alone at lunch and not being invited to parties. He understood that he was different. The Summer before ninth grade, everything changed. He helped restore his grandfather’s 1966 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350. He was the youngest at the software engineering camp. He learned that his family members weren’t the only ones capable of loving him. His first girlfriend, Shelly, proved that. From then on, Calvin’s difference gave him a swagger, which he boosted to a superpower.  


Jamal was amped walking the boulevard. This wasn’t his first protest, but it was the first time he’d been a coordinator. He hadn’t planned for the view down the steel barrel of a pistol. Bree’s scream, the gunman’s imperceptible hand shift, “pop, pop, pop,” all happened simultaneously.  


As he helped Bree’s mom plan the service, Jamal couldn’t stop asking, “Why didn’t I plan how to protect us from the ‘peacekeepers’?” 


Ava detested talk therapy. The first two rounds were to save their marriage, and the third was to survive their divorce. The problem wasn’t therapy. It was the 2 therapists her husband chose. Under the charm of the third time, she found healing and freedom. After that experience, Ava lived her best life.  

She should finish planning their 25th wedding anniversary celebration. Instead, Stella was waiting for an elevator to deliver her to where it would go down. Keith was refusing to take his antipsychotics - again. She’d stared down this dangerous precipice one too many times. Despite her immense love for him, in 30 minutes, Stella would be single - again. 

Watching her beloved go from devoted husband to undiagnosed schizophrenic was the hardest thing Dara had ever experienced. The only thing worse was the night she reluctantly called 911. All the police officers saw was a Black woman confronting a White man. Now Bill’s lost his mind and his wife. 

The One

He wasn’t always a jerk. Once upon a time, he was an adorable child. Most assume his nasty attitude stemmed from his obvious mommy issues. But those weren’t the reasons he couldn’t maintain a relationship. He wouldn’t have to admit the truth if he kept switching women. Then he met The One. She made him look inward. Now they’re happily married to brothers. 


Zenobia pulled Taylor away from the charming man into a quiet corner, shielded from the celebratory atmosphere. “You need to stop, Tee. She’s not your enemy. We just had a long conversation. She’s smart, earnest, and funny. You don’t get to resent her because she met him first. Find your own man. Stop auditioning for her life.” 


Keisha understood the source of Taylor’s passive aggression towards her. Tee wanted her husband. She thought his indiscreet attention meant she could have him. Tee didn’t realize she was doing Keisha a favor. With time, therapy, and Tee, Keisha’s marriage would become what she needed it to be. And Tee would have to move on. 


Darius enjoyed that Taylor was everything his wife Keisha used to be. Tee radiated the characteristics of marriage and motherhood dulled on Keisha. He missed those parts and thought he deserved them no matter the source. Then he realized two things. One, he enjoyed them thoroughly, only with Keisha, and two, it would take another 15 years for Tee to learn him as Keisha has. And if Tee didn’t, Keisha would be long lost to him. 


Despite misgivings, she knew she was destined to marry and build a family with him. “Does destiny have an expiration date?” she wondered. Without the God whisper she craved; she took another leap of faith 25 years after the first. She accepted the job and moved to another country alone because he wasn’t destined to follow her. 

She's Happy

Decades later, when she was whole and safe, she could admit it. There had been abuse. Mothers weren’t supposed to say, write, or do such things. Fortunately, there also were miracles: teachers, friends, and relatives who showed her genuine love. They didn’t know she lived through the other. They loved her for her. Because of them, she could heal and love. There would be no tragic generational cycle. 

She didn’t know which was worse: being betrayed by the one who was meant to protect her or the friends who believed the lies. She walked away from everything.  

She’s happy. 

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