green light

It's warm enough to wear shorts outside, humid enough to drench yourself in bug spray (a sick-sweet smell, like overripe apples at the grocery store). All the leftover Halloween candy is nothing but empty wrappers, and as of glancing at the tiny digital clock at 12:32 AM, it's Friday the 13th. There's an office chair, … Continue reading green light

slow motion

There are eighteen spoons in the kitchen sink tonight. The last one—a line of flowers engraved along its silver handle—slips out of someone's favorite coffee mug and disappears into a white-foamed ocean. Its slow motion rescue occurs in a careless fashion, clumsy fingers reaching blindly through clouded water and grasping at the wayfaring utensil as … Continue reading slow motion

gently

Here, the grass grows thicker and somehow softer than anywhere else. The pale green stems, tugged away from the earth, would be wide enough to fold into tiny paper (grass?) airplanes, if you knew how to do it right. The sky is crossed with a single power line, three small birds clinging to the wire, … Continue reading gently

how to be human

Sunday morning, and the roads never had a chance to be silent. Day breaks, light climbing the walls as someone has their first taste of oxygen and someone has their last and the rest keep living in the in between. They're waking up slowly, sheets twisted, sun on the ceiling and the floor and the … Continue reading how to be human

slowly / 5

The roof of the hotel is silent and cold. A gentle wind pushes dead leaves across the concrete, tossing them off the edge to tumble slowly towards the street below. I lay on my back, looking at the foggy sky, and listen to the phone ring for a long time before anyone answers. "Who is … Continue reading slowly / 5

ending / 4

I lean against the bars of a prison cell, hands in my pockets, staring at an unshaven man recently convicted of first-degree murder. He sits on the floor with bloodshot eyes, cursing softly as I sink down across from him and study the way he’s folding his legs. An attempt to copy his movements only … Continue reading ending / 4

heartbeat / 3

Standing in this graveyard, you could almost believe that the planet isn't turning at all. The sky, strangely pink, is the only thing alive as I sit on a headstone and listen for anything—a heartbeat, a footstep, a gasping breath. Do they bury them alive? “What do you think you’re doing, kid?” I jump violently, … Continue reading heartbeat / 3

paper / 2

Everyone in this city seems to be in line for a Subway sandwich. The tile on the ceiling is yellow, and the woman in front of the line takes her time, talking loudly to a man with a hairnet and a sullen expression. He wraps the sandwich in paper and hands it to her with … Continue reading paper / 2