LeAnn Andrews
Bio
When I was a young, I would spend hours in my room reading and writing. I enjoyed imagining and creating; putting my pen to paper to see what would come of it. Writing is therapeutic. It inspires me, and has always been a passion of mine.
Stories (3)
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Teardrops of Time
I sat on that hard concrete step with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. It was 1994, and the hot summer night was still wafting out a healthy 110° dry heat. The exterior lights of the Modern Arts Building shone down on me like a protective halo. I tried to ignore the trickle of sweat going down my back; it coincided with the irritation trickling through my body.
By LeAnn Andrews4 years ago in Humans
Sliding Doors
My face blazed with humiliation. I could feel the heat smoldering from underneath my crimson cheeks. My eyes were focused on the sliding doors. I watched with distress as they opened, then tried to close, then opened again. They were clearly confused as half my body was on the sensor prompting them to do their job. I tried to untangle the mess I was in, all the while focusing on the perplexed doors. The smell of hot concrete and bubble gum filled my senses as I noticed a wad of chewed up Hubba Bubba uncomfortably close to my cheek. My eyes, frantic and confused, glanced around at all my personal belongings; once tucked safely in my bag, now scattered amongst the dirt and asphalt. I could see the shoes of bystanders as they walked around me. I am sure a multitude of thoughts were running amuck as they stared down at the embarrassing mess displayed at their feet. Embarrassment was an understatement. The only thing I could think as I felt their eyes burning a hole into the back of my head was “Please! For the love of all that is holy…do not acknowledge my existence!”
By LeAnn Andrews5 years ago in Confessions
