Pocketbook Holders Novels & Stories

The image of spending an entire afternoon with my close-knit group of friends fills me with glee, each one bringing their distinct energy and flair to our escapades. With a purposeful stride, I begin the ritual of sorting through my belongings, the process feeling almost sacred in its intentionality. I dive into my drawers, each pull revealing hidden gems buried beneath layers of fabric and forgotten items. Soon, I’ve compiled an enticing assortment of essentials that excite me just thinking about them. I tuck away colorful snack packs, bursting with chewy fruit snacks and savory, crunchy chips, filling my tote with treats that make my mouth water at the mere thought. My treasured wallet, a

He said that we were surprised. "What does my hair have to do with being a holder?" Soliel asked Ate Adhira. "Don't you know? Haha that's how it is. All holds have a corresponding hair color, such as green for Wind holders, blue for water holders, red for fire holders, brown for Earth holders, black for dark holders, and white for light holders, then whatever hold is destined for you will be the color of your hair." This explanation impressed me because I just realized it, but when I looked at the others...

and bailed out. The pungent scent of pot smoke wafted out of Mike’s truck as Brandt opened the door. A roach clip dangled from the rearview mirror, weighted with feathers and skinny strips of leather. He pushed aside food wrappers and empty beer cans until he found a small bright orange fanny pack. Since he’d forgotten to ask specifics about size and color, he unzipped the main compartment. His hand froze. It wasn’t the unopened package of condoms that snared his interest, but the hand-tooled leather wallet.

Two down, one to go… The handsome passenger is tricky. Kate focuses all her world-building skills on him. He’s typing on his smartphone, which she imagines is a blue Galaxy A10; released just four months ago. He looks like he’s texting his girlfriend. Earlier, he took out his wallet, which was a Velcro trifold in denim color. It had one clear ID holder outside, on the right fold… “I know!” Kate suddenly cries out, snapping her eyes open and scaring Ms. Perfect.

There's no other reason for the white guy television version of Urkel to be on our front porch. His light-colored jeans are held up by a pair of rainbow suspenders you'd only find in a bad nineties TV show. My eyes stop abruptly on the white piece of cardboard sticking out from his white dress shirt pocket. The man is wearing a pocket protector. I didn't think those were a real product. Where do you buy a pocket protector? My smile fades as I contemplate the company who is selling these to people. Haven't they ever heard of a pen cap?

We point our weapons toward an empty field to check our sights. "Holy shit," Celina says. "You have grenades in here too." She lifts one from a metal ammo box. Celina is the one who's knocking on the door to get Fernandez's attention after we reach his location. The rest of us will bust through the back door. She's carrying a PKO-45 pocket pistol, which she's hiding in the waistband at her back. It's tiny and only holds five rounds. It, however, packs a solid punch with .45 ammo. Moon gave it to me last Christmas to carry in my purse. With Celina's skin-tight clothes, she needed something small because I refused to let her go in unarmed.