Michelle Morris
Bio
teacher, wife, godmommy
Stories (4/0)
A College Moment
No social media. The term didn't exist. What did exist was Mr. E's, "Say it out loud. You'll hear it, mystery." He lived off campus and was a tall interesting looking man who always seemed to wear the same colorful checkered flannel. Whenever you walked past him or found yourself in his presence, you were mesmerized. He said unthought-of things; "Weed will be legal some day. Don't forget to pay your supplier." Or he wouldn't say anything at all and captivate you with a sight of hand magic trick and then walk away. He seemed to always be walking away. Almost as if he lived off the suspense of wondering what you would have said in response to his awkward, yet captivating interaction.
By Michelle Morris5 years ago in Humans
The Glitter Girl
The morning came with headaches and nausea and the bathroom, being the only suitable place for catharisis, I tried to remember the night before as I released a small part of it into the porcelain bown between my knees. I rested quietly on the bathroom floor and realized that the fast paced life I intentionally led is eventually going to get tiresome. The night before was no longer a complete blur as I began to remember a man discussing business. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on his conversation and when he noticed me listening he turned to me and asked if I had any questions. The confusion and champagne had made me nervous. My lips parted a smile. Shocked and embarrassed, I didn't have a single word to answer him. Before I started to fumble over my tongue, he told me the plan. I would go to a night club on Bourbon Street and find a gentleman that goes by the name, Sal Vation. He was the guy you went to if you wanted to become anything in the business. If you found him, that meant one of two things; Somebody trusts you or somebody trusted you that shouldn't have. This was it. This was my only chance to get in.
By Michelle Morris5 years ago in Poets
Word
Whenever I enter an airport, I immediately crave an egg McMuffin with cheese. I have no idea about the Pavlov dog psychology of it but it happens every time. I think airports just smell like McDonalds and therefore...you know what, I'm just going to go ahead and eat my sangwhich.
By Michelle Morris5 years ago in Poets