I collect stories. I watch, interview, sort and relay with relish and enhanced veracity.

Here are three stories from last week that have stayed with me because, as referenced yesterday, they brought “the truth up front in daily consciousness.”

One:

The protagonist is a freshman in college, first week on campus. He is a context guy, always cognizant of how he fits alongside whatever and whoever is happening at the time. But he is feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of newness in his present situation and wanders into an activities audition without any idea what to expect. The opportunity is to be part of the Mock Trial team, an elite group of debaters who reenact the judicial system in competition. There are several parts to the interview, but the most crucial comes when the panel asks him to argue any issue he feels he can strongly support.

Without thinking or hesitation, he immediately presents a case for why men should not wear pleated pants. He is then asked to reverse the argument, which he does, although reluctantly.

Afterwards, he waits in a nearby sitting area and chats with another candidate. They discuss their interviews. He asks her what issue she debated. She says her proposal discussed why juvenile criminals should be tried as adults. She had done research the night before. Our protagonist chooses not to share his own subject matter. He knows he will not be asked to join. Why, oh why, did he not figure out what the audition would entail before he showed up?

He gets the call two days later. He makes the team.

Two:

The antagonist flies on lots of airplanes to lots of Midwest cities and gives off a “do not talk to me” vibe even on good days. The first leg of this particular trip had been thwarted by a hurricane, a cancelled flight, lost luggage and apathetic service. By the time our antiheroine is ready to fly home again, the weather is clear and sunny and she is hopeful. She walks into the airport and discovers that this leg of the flight is also cancelled for reasons unexplained and she will need to kill another four hours in an airport the size of a high school gymnasium.

She then does what she does best in airports, she throws a big fit. After informing all within earshot how unacceptable this situation is, she gets on her cell phone and continues her tantrum to anyone who answers. Exhausting her contact list, she prowls around the terminal like a caged animal and glowers at people.

About twenty minutes later, she notices the airline associate from the ticket counter approaching her. He had to have been searching for her; she is now in a completely different area from where he was working. He tells her that an upcoming flight on another airline had been sold out, but that a few tickets just became available and would she like one. She stares at him. “Would you like one?” He asks again. She says, “I do not deserve for you to be so nice to me.” He says, “You seemed to want to get home, I thought of you right away and came to find you.” She nods and follows him quietly.

She gets home only an hour later than planned and is able to keep her “Project Runway” date with her son.

Three:

The scene is suburbia, a driveway in the front yard of a house. A teenage girl is modeling a homecoming dress. She is a smart-girl stereotype come to life, a little gawky but also sassy and refreshingly aware of herself in a “who cares?” kind of way. She and her mother had bought several dresses to choose from and this is the one they decide to keep. It fits her perfectly, black tulle and patterned rhinestones, sophisticated but age appropriate. Her hands alternate between smoothing the bodice across her waist and holding up the skirt as she twirls, both gestures of wonder, this dress is unlike anything she has worn before. She doesn’t need a mirror; her walk, her face, her whole demeanor knows she is beautiful.

Then suddenly, as if they have been waiting, women begin rushing out of nearby houses, all carrying things. One woman has a pair of silver shoes, one has a glittering barrette, another holds a necklace. A few women just stand back and survey approvingly, complimenting, asking her to turn around again, cooing and smiling, gently touching and fluffing the layers of fabric. A few run back to their closets for more, try these shoes, this lipstick, do you have the right slip?

Mom watches all of this with a bemused look on her face: pride, incredulity, relief. The dance is a week away. As of today the girl does not have a date although she will by Wednesday. Now is just about her, her dress and her neighbors who have known her since the day she was born.