In my defense, Mom shouldn’t have kept the Communion elements in the rumpus room. In her defense, the room wasn’t used much. As an only child, it’s hard to make a rumpus, especially when being the minister’s daughter renders you… Continue Reading
Abbie rose from the couch when she heard the key rattle in the lock and the thump of Troy’s boots hitting the floor. It was two in the morning. Troy staggered into their apartment, mumbling a slurred story about pub… Continue Reading
“Wow, that’s gorgeous. Where’d you get it?” Mariel asked Reno. “That new place on Main Street.” Mariel admired the tattoo and touched it lightly with her fingertips. His skin was cool to the touch, and the tri-color tat popped against… Continue Reading
(content warning: rape) I close my eyes and the quiet, black space around me is filled with you. Do you think of me too? I wonder if you do. Wonder if that night is still carved into your wrists, wriggling… Continue Reading
Down McLaren, right on First. Argh, I know this friggin’ bus route off by heart. Haunt a bus, they said; it’ll be fun, they said. Sure, it’s fun for late-night-thrills but the monotony is going to make me lose it.… Continue Reading
Bobblehead. I’m a bobblehead, he thought, and smiled at the mental picture of an Albert Einstein one that he saw online one time. It woke him up slightly, which he needed to do; falling asleep in public would be embarrassing.… Continue Reading
Amile sat across the room from him, sipping a glass of clear moonshine. He watched her, watched the warm glow rise in her cheeks, so much like a blush. She sighed contentedly and opened her eyes. She looked at his… Continue Reading
There is a round man, and every day he drinks three long-necks of Bintang from the same white sun lounge on the black sands of Echo Beach. I monitor him from a subtle five lounges down the row because the… Continue Reading
One drink, another. Stack the spent $2 Hamms into a nice pyramid. The sun hasn’t even set yet. The drinks tonight are on the State of Illinois. See this leather jacket? Bet you’d never guess it belonged to Paul Newman.… Continue Reading
Her menu was written in Helvetica. The standard black font paired against off-white paper in a contest of monotony. Cleverly named breakfast options and well thought out puns added colour to the menu choices. She debated between the aptly named… Continue Reading