Tag Archives: Figging

One Last Train Home — Giselle Renarde

Back in my university days, I lived with my parents in the easternmost part of the city.  All my friends from school lived in the west end.  Saturday nights I’d head across town, travelling a good hour by subway to the quirky art-student house parties my weird classmates threw. I discovered early on it was [...]
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Saturday at 5:30 a.m. — Giselle Renarde

I’m sleeping with a married man.  There.  I had to get that off my chest.  You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name.  After all, he could be someone you know.  Or you may know his wife or his kids.  I wouldn’t want word to get back to them.  And just because [...]
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Breaking Up From Behind — Giselle Renarde

Somehow, it was easy.  We’d had our break-ups in the past, and they were always tortured, so I figured this one would be the same.  It wasn’t.  I expected tears from him, tears from me, and then the shouting and the melodrama, but no.  As I said, it was easy. “We can’t keep doing this,” [...]
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Lot to Lot, Space to Space — Giselle Renarde

Jeff and I went to that theatre out in Hanover last night.  Only eight people in the audience including us two, but the show was first-rate.  A typical summer stock farce, but expertly performed. After the play, we took a wander around the cute little town, peeking in the windows of all those adorable shops [...]
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A Masked Hero — Giselle Renarde

As a Chemistry student at Carlton University, I dreamed of adventure but was cursed with an aching inability to act on my impulses.  I was rebellious at heart, but painfully passive in action.  The object of my inert lust was my lab partner Alejandro.  He was your typical tall, dark and handsome exchange student whose [...]
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Lillian’s New Toy — Giselle Renarde

Years ago, my husband Frank fell into a routine I tolerated, but only just.  Every night, when I came to bed after scouring pots and pans, fixing the kids’ school lunches, scrubbing grass stains from their dresses and trousers, he would ask, What’s it going to be tonight, Rosie?  My name is Lillian, but he [...]
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The Maelstrom — Giselle Renarde

“I keep dreaming about you,” I mused. If Lawrence were a puppy, his tail would have been wagging under the bed sheets.  “Do tell!” “Not that kind of dream,” I burst his bubble, cuddling against his chest.  “The other night I dreamed we were in court and your wi…”  I was half way through before [...]
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