Toddlers wanting snacks to eat Stretch on tippy toes to reach the cupboard

School kids wanting to impress their teacher Stretch their arm up high to be called on

Young adults wanting to impress each other Stretch the truth about their accomplishments

Adults paying for lifestyle, children, college, stretch their income for survival

Thoughtful and confident, persuasive yet not pushy, it is impossible not to be happy in her company as she radiates joy and beauty from within.

Scott was in a slump. It was understandable to feel down, in the midst of a pandemic. In his final semester at Columbia, he tried to will himself to keep studying and living life as normally as possible. As he trod toward Trader Joe’s from his apartment, he felt the desolation of a city still struggling. There were fewer people clogging the sidewalks, but those who remained looked grim and haggard. Some restaurants had gotten creative with outdoor seating, but many other storefronts were shuttered. He gave himself a mental pep talk. This wouldn’t be forever. He was young and handsome and had great friends. It was just as his thoughts turned more positive that he saw her - a beautiful young woman around his age, cheerful, glowing, and buoyant.

It makes me feel strong It sculpts my muscles It’s good for my heart and lungs My whole day is productive My mood is lifted
My clothes fit better Why is it so hard to get out the door?

Susi’s head throbbed. Her mouth was dry and tasted of rancid wine. She felt the damp grit of sand on half her face. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, gunked together with last night’s mascara and remnants of false eyelashes. It was barely daybreak, but she could see a few earlybirds out, walking dogs or getting a jog in. Her party dress from last night was wrinkled and askew. Her shoulder length curly hair was plastered to one side of her head. Susi’s nose began to run and she used a corner of her dress to wipe it. Why have any shame at this point? As she breathed in the fabric she smelled the smoky wood of bonfire and had a flash of memory. She was dancing around the bonfire, the life of the party. Smiling, laughing, drinking straight out of the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Lots of other young people, shadowy in the flickering firelight, laughing, egging her on. The sweet pungent smell of marijuana. She had to get out of here and back to the beach house where she was staying for a few days with her girlfriends. Where was that house? Why had her friends left her? Was she harmed at all? She closed her dry, stinging eyes against the glare of the August North Carolina sun, already so bright, and tried to think. She breathed in and out, in and out, trying to calm her nerves and make sense of her situation. Waves crashed; the tide was coming in. The air smelled sticky and salty, humid. There was another smell - body odor? Hers? She sniffed an armpit. Oh God. Opening her eyes, she saw her pashmina shawl was covered in sour, acrid wine vomit. She gagged. Shielding her eyes and looking up and down the beach she remembered she and her friends had Ubered to the bonfire party. There were the remnants of it, not 50 yards away. The beach house was well beyond the pier, which she could see quite a ways away. She fumbled around for her phone and her shoes. Miraculously finding both of her Birkenstocks and her (battery dead of course) iPhone, she staggered to her feet. Time to begin the long walk of shame.

Kevin shook his head after Calvin finished telling his brother the latest upheaval in his marriage. In the sixteen years since they’d wed there had been four kids, physical and emotional abuse (on her part), infidelity (on both their parts), a move cross country (her demand), his job loss (caused by her), and more. “Man no offense but what the hell is wrong with you? Why didn’t you leave her a long time ago? I don’t care how ravishing she was when you met her, your life has been pure chaos since. I’m astonished you are still in it.” Kevin said, not unkindly. Calvin nodded sadly. “I know. I kept thinking it would get better. It’s going to be hell, and she’s going to lie and try anything to keep my kids from me, but for all our sakes I need to get out. I need to save us all.”

My date with the Jewish doctor loomed ominously. He seemed nice but I wasn’t especially attracted to him. I was resignedly wrapping up my three month stint on match.com. I’d stupidly agreed to a dinner date and a concert, in NYC. With the 40 minute drive to and from, I was going to be trapped, minimally, for the next 6-7 hours with this guy. The drive and dinner proceeded uneventfully. His friends were perfectly nice if unremarkable. The concert was painfully awkward, famous-but-now-old geezers croakily attempting to belt the songs from their glory days. I looked around at the other couple and my date incredulously; they were enjoying themselves. I excused myself repeatedly to escape to the bathroom, where I texted another guy I’d been talking to on match. He and I were already closely connected though we hadn’t yet met in person. Toward the end of the concert, my oblivious date creepily stroked my arm, smiling lovingly. I barely survived the endless drive home, forty cringeworthy minutes. I desperately mumbled excuses about not being over a previous ex. On arrival at my house, I quickly scuttled out of the car, dodging a goodnight kiss. Epilogue: I’m now married to texting-in-the-bathroom guy.

Matt had been eager to oblige when the flight attendant asked if he’d switch seats to be in an exit aisle. He had always been a nice, polite person even as a kid, the type teachers and coaches liked and appreciated as a leader. Other kids liked him too, because he was kind and calm and amiable. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome, astonishingly so as he grew into a man. He folded his 6’4” athletic build into the window seat and settled in for the short flight from Raleigh to New York City. When the plane began to lose altitude shortly after it had reached cruising, Matt was aware but stifled alarm. Looking out the window he saw a small fire on the opposite wing. The pilot did his best to land the plane carefully, in a corn field in northern Virginia, amid screams of terror from many of the passengers. Though the plane was soon engulfed in flames, Matt guided and carried passenger after passenger out to safety, as they welcomed the distant sound of a fire engine racing to the scene.

Jenna is sort of short and stumpy She’s sweet and loyal and never grumpy She knows commands like stay and sit Her one flaw is snacking on kitty shit

There is no elevator. Heels clickety clack and a heavy gait creaks across the uncarpeted floors. In summertime it is hot; there is no air conditioning. There’s not much parking, only one spot per tenant. There’s not much storage, so belongings have been pared down. There is no washer/dryer, no dishwasher. There is not room for many guests. No more than two people can sit at the kitchen table, and there are no high ceilings anywhere to accommodate taller company without their stooping. There’s no counter space to speak of in the tiny bathroom nor kitchen. But there is a view! A magnificent view of river and cliffs and the New York City skyline.