The office wallpapered with newspapers from Russia, Japan, Australia, Mexico, Argentina, England, India and America to establish her loyalty to current events.
The kitchen wallpapered with ripped leafy Bible pages, fine print, to verify her religious devotion.
The living area wallpapered with black and white photographs, with sharp and smart lines taken at instinctive angles, to authenticate the artist.

A seven-year-old out side roasting voluntarily, with her lemonade stand, twenty-five cents for a glass, too young to think of yellow lemon zest curls as decoration, but old enough to wish her neighborhood was a bad one, as to allow for a random drive by shooting so she may reincarnate and begin again.

A good, honest and productive citizen man who is lucky she has minor self-control to make up for his poor judgment, but really, he has excellent judgment.
A healthy, loyal and bashful company man who lives and dreams tragically, as she does, the dream last night regarding packed bags, a plane ticket, and going back home, it was self-induced.

The frightening time when one spouse does not pull his weight, and she is forced to cancel the credit cards, take away his checks, plead with him to pick up a little one from school, sell Tupperware on the side, and finish the car payments so she can say, "I don't need you anymore, I think it would be best if you leave."

Allison Korenek
ALLISON KORENEK is a student and takes an interest in English, journalism, photography, creative writing, and literary magazines. This is her first publication in The Adirondack Review.