Showing Face
Vasilios Moschouris
but you know there is a Truth Moment coming, and sure enough the next morning he says hey and you say hey and he says sorry about last night
but you know there is a Truth Moment coming, and sure enough the next morning he says hey and you say hey and he says sorry about last night
You’re probably thinking these things happened a very long time ago, but as a matter of fact it was just yesterday, and yet somehow we are all old and married with children now, even the former supermodel
Your date’s cologne smells like rancid wine, which should be a good enough reason to bail, but it’s only hour two and you’ve made a commitment.
He doesn’t seem to think I’m a handful. I can tell by his texts.
I was still pouting over hometown boy, and neck-deep in an article about foiled wallpaper when I got a Facebook message from Preston. Could we get together?
In the train carriage, we’re hot in our furs, brooding and half-drunk.
Like many who quit drinking, my mother became a proselytizer for sobriety.
The other half was the memories of the end. The time Teddy had threatened to burn the only copy of my novel.
Do I break up with my Venezuelan surfer and move back to Alaska? I debated. Or bring him to the U.S. and marry him?
The humid air mingling with my warmth stretches my sense of self this morning. Settling again into my day, I guide myself to the kitchen to make my breakfast. The routine comforts me. I’m tragically
He says he feels like all his problems would be solved if he stopped going to that bar.
he flashed a toothless grin, all James Dean California Cool, a tan blonde blue-eyed surfer type. I imagined him as the boys Lana sang about.
The artist class?
He stole my Tupperware, the largest one in a glass Pyrex set.
His white face is red. Mom taught me that people turn red like tomatoes when they’re drunk. I look around and see pink and red faces all around me.
Sex would remain forever yoked to this school shooting, grief combined with an uncanny moment of clarity: life won’t be the same after this, regardless.
PS: My computer is really going nuts. If I can use one of your spare ones, I may need it sooner rather than later.
Sophie had recently gone through a break up. I don’t remember her ex's name. I do remember the striking legibility of the word VIOLENCE.
One day at the school for disturbed children I attended, a boy lit his pubes on fire.
The first thing I killed was a coyote. Grandpa pointed out that the coyote was a mother. Her belly sagged a few inches above the grass. Her front right leg caught in a wire trap. Grandpa handed me his
At night, we lay on unmoored mattresses, pressing hands over our eyes to block out spears of light from the street. We cursed our naked windows.
My fantasy of Lockwood started to deflate like a balloon with a tiny hole.
She feels bad for being taken aback before; she really is a very nice doctor.
In the anatomy lab, we are peeing into cups to check for any abnormalities within the urine
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
"I loved reading Exit, Carefully. It’s unusual, and in my opinion exciting, to publish a play without previously receiving a major production."
-Walker Caplan, Lithub