A Taste of Spring

Spring mistakenly disconnected the call before Troy could get out what he wanted to say. She groaned as she came to a stop. Feeling guilty as she stared at her cell phone, she thought to call him back. Her finger hovered over the send button. She was lowering her finger when she glanced away from the cell and something caught her eye.

On a display case directly in front of her was...her.

Suppressing a squeal, Spring grabbed the issue of Time for Us magazine and studied the image of her and Brandi. She looked so different than her current homely appearance, dressed in short shorts and a small T-shirt with her hair no longer in braids.

Spring had a bounce in her step as she pulled her cart to the checkout line. She placed the magazine on the conveyor belt first then piled the rest of her items on. That she hadn't finished her shopping didn't even register with her.

"Hey," the cashier said as he held up the magazine, "this kinda looks like you."

Spring smiled as she pushed loose hair from her high bun behind her ear. "You think so?"

How she got from the market to her apartment, Spring didn't know. Who she passed on the walk, if she spoke, or even how she got inside the door with her key, was a mystery. But as she jogged the groceries to the kitchen with the magazine safely under her arm, she continued to float on cloud nine.

"Summer!" she called out. "Summer!" The sound of a loud thud then footsteps barreling toward her didn't even register.

wide and she was breathless. "What happened?" Her sister's gaze swept

the magazine. "I'm on

then focused on the magazine. "Oh...my...gawwd!" She grabbed

but didn't try to grab it back.

cover," Summer whispered. She looked over at Spring. "You made the cover," she said a little louder. "You Made the Cover, you beautiful bitch!" She cried out as she started jumping up and down.

jumped

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DEZMOND

heavy door weighed on his arm as Dezmond listened to Mrs. Marcum, an elderly woman who liked to vent to him about their neighbors in the building. Today, she went on and on about how she thought that someone must have a dog in the building. He tried to say his goodbyes whenever she offered an opening in her tirade to take a needed breath, but the

again. I've left three unreturned messages already," Mrs.

as he nodded toward one of the other neighbors on their floor. Libby Hughes, a young executive who

will talk with you later, Dezie. I have to catch Ms. Hughes

(Talk?)

engage, and she