Some hours pass, and nobody has impressed her
Before we entered the most raved about amusement park in the world, we went into the woods nearby . . .
I only want to read erased fucking.
John’s hands are on the wheel, very still, and he’s looking straight ahead at the dark yellow lines of Route 66.
The Millennial aspect is important because, like many Millennials, its protagonist does not wear labels easily.
This story is a fresh take on the proverbial phrase: go the extra mile for someone else.
You mean to say, “hello” or “good morning,” but you know that, between us, that would be strangely inappropriate before our morning cup of coffee
It starts like this, the saddest story I know does. It starts with me and it starts with my son.
“You’re damned if you do and damned if you won’t”
The ferry man asked, Where is its mom? I am his mother!
Jack Beauregard divides his time into zeroes and ones. He divides his time between mundane tasks and the question of whether he is worth loving.
We go to a bar for lunch that serves free candy.
I am a hoarder trying to salvage pieces.
Is it ok to bite the hand that feeds you if the food is mostly rubber?
Jared punches like dang. Gouges, arm-bars. Breaks windows at theme parties.
For the past month Wrat, a man removed from the dogtooth of language, had been hearing a scratching, needling noise clip the outmost walls.
I put on underpants and pants and socks and shirts in the same sequence every day
I was retroactively making a story out of a time in my life when I was interested in writing, wanted to ‘be a writer’, but didn’t necessarily have the skills or direction to actually pull it off.
On the job site one morning they found a dead squirrel. There was no indication of what had killed it.
