The Matter With Things Novels & Stories

They then pulled me away from the door and pushed me farther into the living room. "Drive safe, Mr. and Mrs. Sallow!" Adrian called out to them, waving Mom goodbye. "What matters? What matters are you attending to?" I was still shocked and couldn't snap out of my daze just yet. I stared at Mom's sly smile in confusion. It was already getting dark out. What matters could there be for them to attend to so late in the day? "Don't bother about us. Hurry up and get dinner! Everything's getting cold at this point!"

It was the first time I had acknowledged it. Then I found myself wondering if it was the right thing. I wanted it, but it wouldn't be right. It would make things messy, and I didn't want to start anything that ended in heartbreak. I couldn't see a future in whatever what going on with us. If I managed to score my dream job, I would have to work hard-I would even have to travel, if necessary.

Blake was crouched before the counter, arranging chocolate cookies he had baked earlier and brownies. He looked up when he heard me and gave me a grim smile. “You want to tell me what has been going on with you these past few days” he asked “You are not okay; I know something is wrong so please tell me. I promise I will help in any way possible” I sighed and sat down after picking a hot brownie from the tray. “It is a little complicated. I don’t want to talk about it” I answered and his face fell. “Okay then, maybe we should talk about why our date was canceled?”

"Why? Why were you born with everything, while I have to work my ass off? People like you don't deserve any of it!" My dad turned and looked down at her. "Whether my daughter deserves something isn't for you to decide." At that, he turned to Wilhelm, his tone absolute. "Call the police. Report intentional destruction of property, physical harassment, and defamation." Hearing that, Louisa scrambled across the floor and lunged for my legs. "Mallory, I'm sorry! We're roommates! I'm so poor—I'm just envious of everything you have. You can't do this to me!"

I asked, once my tongue had finally unglued itself from the back of my throat. It's all of some intricate political designations that made the back of my head throb just thinking about it. It beats all reason as to why they'll cut all corner and do everything but come out and say the outright truth. It's literally not that hard! They're simply complicating things that had no business being so. I might have asked if the earth was flat and if wall geckos were the next delicacy on the menu from the reaction of shock that accosted my from all sides. What? Are we not supposed to talk about my sister now that she's missing? Especially when she's missing?

needed we have things you need This is nuts, my fading rationality protested. So I’ve got a little lost time between The Motor Lodge and here. So what? And that weird shopkeeper, babbling about things we need or whatever. He set me up for this, sure enough. And the lock on his door must be broken. It was unlocked when I tried to get back in; it’s locked now because it’s broken. The lock is broken, or something in the door-handle is, for sure. And what I saw in the Magic Eight Ball? I’m tired. Hallucinating. And on the camera? Some guy messing around making a low-budget ghost story, and word processors have memories, right? You could type something on them and save it, print it out later. So

2024 You think you're so smart. You may have got lucky this time. But sooner or later your luck will run out!> “What is it?” Brady demands. I show him the text. He lets out several curses. I forward the text to the detective. The intercom buzzes. "Mrs. Thomas your 11am appointment is here." Damien explains. "Thanks. Give me five minutes." I reply. "Yes ma'am." He replies. "I'm fine Brady. I've got work to do." I reply.

When did the script flip so hard that I started needing distractions from someone I thought I should outrightly hate? She’s not supposed to matter. But she does. And that is the biggest problem of all. Because when someone starts mattering, that’s when things slip through the cracks. That’s when judgment falters. That’s when you start compromising. And I can’t afford that. Not with her. Not with this situation.

That’s worse than when it talks. “Hey,” I call out. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.” Its gaze shifts to me, slow and deliberate. “You are persistent,” it says. “Yeah,” I reply. “It’s a problem for people like you.” A faint smile touches its lips. “People,” it repeats. “Whatever you are,” I correct. “Doesn’t matter.” “Everything matters,” it says quietly. “Not to me.” I shift, placing more of myself between it and Rissa.