The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Prose

three more worksheets. Your hands are tired; the lines begin to blur. You feel your eyes closing. NO, WAKE UP. Self-talk: you got this, finish it out, push through to the end. Stress wears you down, unless you put it on a leash. You control it. Don’t allow it to control you. How do I get it all done? It requires a strict regimen of energy drinks, count- less cups of coffee, many sleepless nights, and of course, determination. Stress is like wearing a backpack full of bricks around you until you physically can no longer move, waiting for the moment when your to do list for the week is fin- ished and you collapse from exhaustion...only to wake up the next day and begin the next list, write the next schedule, and drink the next glass of caffeine. Take a walk, read a book, keep a journal, schedule me-time. Battle the stress with positive reinforcement. Don’t allow it to consume you; your stress does not define who you are. It may not be easy, but you can overcome it. Take a day off. The “to do list” can wait until tomorrow. Consider the idea of letting stress off the leash and letting it run away, on its own. Let go of the leash. Separate yourself from the monster under the bed. Take a deep breath and remember, it’s only temporary. The Right One By Riley Eaton The sun’s hazy rays beat down upon the humming streets of a downtown city that summer day in 1954. Businesses closed in the afternoon as workers left for their lunch breaks. However, one business in the city’s shopping district kept open during that hour in hopes of drawing in more customers. The crude sign advertising Ward’s General Goods sat above the venue’s doorway, welcoming anyone brave enough to enter. The wallpapered panels of the open-floor room were a dull yellow, with multiple patches peeling up throughout, and cracks ran through the concrete floor. The building’s pipes burst at the most inconvenient moments while the air conditioning faltered on the hottest days. Indeed, Ward’s General Goods was a new establishment with an unfortunate venue that could hardly be helped on its budget, but its owner hoped to make up for its physical condition with excellent products and the diligence of its employees. On that sweltering day, the store’s AC unit broke down. Martin, the handsome man behind the front counter, fanned himself with a sheet from the morning newspaper. “Loretta,” he inquired of his co-worker, “when will Jonathan be here?” “I’ve been here for an hour!” cried Jonathan, the young repairman that often came to fix the shop’s broken machines and utilities. He wiped his sweaty brow with a rag before returning to his silent repair of the AC unit. “Jonathan’s a quiet one,” Loretta, a young lady who was idly rearranging items on a nearby shelf, said. “I don’t know if I should be flattered because I was stealthy, or offended be- cause you didn’t realize I came in at all,” Jonathan huffed. Martin merely offered him a grin. “Be flattered.” Mr. Gabriel Ward walked in from his office at the back of the store. “‘Ello,

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