Honorable mention: Bitter Blue
Honorable mention: “Green Bee” by Mike Barbee by Nancy Skiba Marvella Upton leaned her elbows on the red and white Formica breakfast table and blew on the steaming cup of generic coffee. The cup was a well worn restaurant mug with a chip on the rim. Like many things in her 1950s home, it had been picked up for pennies at a yard sale. Marvella didn’t believe in wasting money on the latest gadgets or doodads. She’d lived in the plain, white, two bedroom house high up on Via La Circula since her divorce in 1954. She got the house, and Harvey Upton got away in one piece. She considered the little mortuary salesman a boring little wimp. Marvella didn’t think much of other people. She could size anyone up in a few minutes, and prided herself on seeing through their civilized facades and kind gestures. In particular, Marvella loathed nicey-nice people. She was secure in her misanthropy. Nobody could get one over on her. Her small house was an eyesore by the standards of the day. Other houses on the winding tree-lined hill had been enlarged and renovated quite nicely, with sprawling manicured yards and views of the sea through pepper trees and willows. If anything, it was best to avoid…
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