Camille Crutcher

“Okay? Okay. ” by Camille Crutcher

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #237

I open the door to the restaurant. The hostess smiles with a set of pearly white teeth asking if I have a reservation and I remember Dan is dead. He had the nicest teeth of anyone I had ever met. “Four years of braces,” he would tease with a rap of his pointer finger against his two front incisors. “It’s for seven-o-clock, under Clara,” I say to the hostess with a nod. She looks down at her stand and I am thinking of the last time I saw Dan’s teeth. A morbid book my therapist recommended explained that morticians sew the mouths of the d...

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“The Blue Hue” by Camille Crutcher

Sticky, watermelon flavored lip gloss clung to Reed Hart’s lips after the kissing. He smiled in spite of himself at the taste, running a gentle hand though the brunette hair of the girl in his arms and wishing the moment never had to end.Cassidy Conway had caught his eye two years ago in their sophomore chemistry class. She was quiet, but smart. Never too scared to raise her hand with a correct answer, but always too scared to peek at her cell phone in class. Her ashy brown hair would get natural highlights when she spent too much time in th...

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“The Swirly Blue Clay Mug” by Camille Crutcher

Submitted to Contest #89

My dad takes his coffee with a splash of cream, and absolutely no sugar, in the swirly blue clay mug mom made. I always pour myself the first cup since I like my coffee black and still hot enough that it burns going down. Then I pour his, and last I pour Lena’s. She takes hers with enough milk and sugar that it no longer tastes like coffee, so it never matters if it’s lukewarm. Our coffee preferences are a lot like us. I savor the first sip of that magical, acidic bean juice breathing life into my body before I start my day. I savor it ...

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“The Ones I Come From” by Camille Crutcher

Submitted to Contest #79

When I was little, my mama convinced me I came only from her.“It’s why we look so much alike." She would say, with a pinch of my freckled cheeks and a tug on one of my unruly curls. I would look into her light brown eyes that mirrored my own and believe her.My nana, who shared the same curly hair and freckly face, would shake her head and scold my mama behind closed doors of our yellow house, but neither of them would correct what I knew to be true: I was my mother’s daughter, and hers alone.It was not until Sunday school in the third grade ...

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“ A Sister's Secret” by Camille Crutcher

Submitted to Contest #78

The silver Volkswagen Jetta snaked up the mountain road, maneuvering the switchbacks with ease. Despite Henry’s confidence behind the wheel, Ada still held tight to the door handle. He glanced over and gave her a dimpled smirk as they rounded the final corner leading to the resort.“I still can’t believe you’ve never skied,” Henry said as he pulled into a cramped, snowy space between two trucks that was far too small to be within lines, but traditional parking lot rules appeared not to apply.“I grew up in the rain,” Ada replied curtly, grimac...

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