A is for Acid Rain, B is for Bee (Beacons Story Collection) by Joanne Harris

By Joanne Harris

Joanne Harris' robust imaginative and prescient of a close to destiny the place 'outside' is a specific thing of the past.

This tale is taken from the gathering, Beacons: tales For Our no longer So far-off destiny, which demanding situations celebrated writers to think about the weather difficulty. All writer royalties may be donated to the cease weather Chaos Coalition.

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Additional resources for A is for Acid Rain, B is for Bee (Beacons Story Collection)

Example text

There’s a problem with your son’s hair,” he’d said. ” Stu walked Bennie over to Chris in the chair and parted his hair to reveal some tan little creatures the size of poppy seeds moving around on his scalp. Bennie felt himself grow faint. “Lice,” the barber whispered. ” Bennie had blurted. ” Other people were staring, and Bennie had felt responsible, with his own riotous head of hair, to the point where he sprayed OFF! in his armpits every morning to this day, and kept an extra can at the office—crazy!

She heard Alex ask. The concierge was young and spiky haired. “We’ve called the police,” he said defensively. Alex turned to the woman. ” “In the ladies’ room. ” Alex swung around to Sasha. “You were just in the bathroom,” he said. ” “No,” she managed to say. She had Xanax in her purse, but she couldn’t open her purse. Even with it zipped, she feared that the wallet would blurt into view in some way that she couldn’t control, unleashing a cascade of horrors: arrest, shame, poverty, death. Alex turned to the concierge.

He said. “Someone stole my wallet. My ID is gone, and I have to catch a plane tomorrow morning. ” She stared beseechingly at both of them. It was the sort of frank need that New Yorkers quickly learn how to hide, and Sasha recoiled. It had never occurred to her that the woman was from out of town. ” Alex asked. “The concierge said he would call. ” She looked helplessly at the marble floor around their feet. Sasha relaxed slightly. This woman was the type who annoyed people without meaning to; apology shadowed her movements even now, as she followed Alex to the concierge desk.

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Categories: Short Stories