It’s hazy and warm, in the late afternoon, and there’s a cool breeze on your cheek. You’re out on the front steps with a box full of sidewalk chalk and a glass full of more ice than lemonade, and more[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
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Posts Tagged microfiction
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You are eating breakfast alone in a little corner diner, sometime prior to the year 1995. Flipping through the newspaper. All the news is bad. Like always. The coffee is bitter. The eggs are greasy. The waitress wears a name-tag[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
“So we were married, in the dream you were having? What did we even do?” “We were poor. You worked in an office. I wrote novels. Real fucked up ones. We wrote together sometimes. Watched a lot of movies, drank[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…