Small Pleasures Novels & Stories

"I want to remember the small things." "The small things," Alexander said. "The things that don't make it into the annual report. Coffee in the morning. The dog at the foot of the bed. The way you look when you're reading. The way you laugh when something is actually funny. The way you said 'the south-facing bed' like it was a perfectly normal thing to call your husband." Alexander was quiet for a moment. "I didn't say that," he said. "You said I was like the south-facing bed."

I'd forgotten how to do it. We often overlook the tiny things, such as the pungent aroma of freshly mown grass. In a rush of wind, the way your hair tickles your neck. Things like sipping water from an outdoor faucet and being drenched. Crouching down to inspect a butterfly, for example. Wonderful things, such as the glint in your significant other's eyes when he or she smiles, or the massive heads of gorgeous lupins in full bloom. We have a tendency to forget about today. We tend to overlook minor details.

Clarkson was a very generous man. I was wiping the counters for the second time because of boredom as my eyes roamed around place and the plain wallpaper, which, I had noticed, was torn right below the neon sign at the small bar. I was busy coming up with different ways in which I could fix it when my phone rang loudly.

The plush carpet underfoot added a touch of comfort and luxury, making the room feel more like a home and less like a grand, impersonal space. I turned my attention to the small details that would make all the difference to Grandma. On her bedside table, I placed a framed photograph of her and Grandpa, a cherished memory that always brought a smile to her face. Beside it, I arranged a vase of fresh flowers, their fragrance filling the room with a sweet, calming scent.

I had to take a quick shower to wash off all the sweat. I wore a short armless gown with flowery designs and pink heels to match it. I checked the time, and Carter should be here any moment from now. I went back downstairs and set the table. I placed the two scented candles I bought from the mall at the centre of the table, served the food, and sprinkled some white roses on the table. Satisfied by what I'd done, I went to the living room to wait for him. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I was so happy that I almost ran to the door, but I maintained composure. "Hey, baby." I hugged him as I opened the door.

It seemed that the man in front of her, despite all his friendliness and determination, also had his secrets. Suddenly getting up, Joshua broke the melancholy mood, stretched making a lot of noise, and winked at her, playfully. "Now shall we have dinner? I'll fix us something to eat." "It's just that I'm not very hungry.... These cookies have been enough." "More for me, then. But if I were you, I'd eat at least some." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Simple. I ran my fingers through my hair and dug the tablet from my purse as I walked down the hall to the gym. Sheesh, I needed to clean this thing out. Or maybe not. I kind of liked having random stuff like three pens, a mini-notebook, two ChapSticks, and a half-eaten Hershey’s bar in the bottom of it. Because God forbid I did that back home. It was the little acts of rebellion that made me feel strong. I hummed Ariana Grande’s song “Break Free” to myself. Such a guilty-pleasure song, and I was indulging in all the guilty pleasures right now. One bar of chocolate too much, one more glass of wine . . . kissing a handsome, tattooed rock star.

I watched Carissa—how her face remained calm even with a trace of weariness, how she could still smile even after hearing news that might change her family’s life forever. I wished I could be that serene. But I was only a man carrying too many secrets. Carissa suddenly chuckled softly. “Life is funny, isn’t it?” I raised a brow. “Funny how?” “Well… sometimes we get caught up thinking about big things—how to survive, how to make people believe in us. But in the end, happiness comes from the little things. Like sitting here on the porch, talking like this, or just sharing tea.” I smiled too, though there was bitterness I couldn’t hide. “You’re right. It’s the little things that remind us—we’re

**A Glimpse of Hope** The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of their small room, casting a gentle glow over the worn furniture and wooden floors. Lillian awoke to the soft sounds of the town outside—footsteps on the cobblestone streets, the distant murmur of voices, the faint clinking of dishes from a café nearby. It was a comforting contrast to the chaos of the last few days, a reminder that the world could still be quiet and ordinary.

She appears to be kind to me. While I wait for her, my eyes roamed to check her things. She had no personal things here except her photo in a picture frame and on the wall. "Here. Sorry to keep you waiting." She said and I set my lovely teeth at her. "It's okay. Isn't it's only normal to act close to each other? Besides we're neighbors now!" I uttered while my eyes keep gazing at her from head to toe. I can see how her cheeks turned red.