Maybe we all met, somewhere, in between streets.

Since the divorce had gone final, the matter settled once and for all, he’d taken to a masochistic bingo of sorts.

Dear England, Please send me a redheaded boy, fire-red, please. We have one girl aflame but the others are stone yellow or dark as the sea. The flames are so easy to spot from afar.

Lena jumps in Tungi’s ride, a busted Cutlass with chrome wheels and booming stereo. She hugs him, presses her chichis against his. He’s wearing too much cologne, but Lena’s glad he’s trying.

We go in gently at first, skimming over the first few swells and dropping speed, but then we pitch hard, tail over. The windshield holds. I think of Lily. I think of the baby. And I see my life.

I laugh too loud cause the world looks good that way and for a minute we both make funny sounds just to exercise our vocal cords and see how close we can come to the line without crossing.

The mandatory is not / your friend

born to be mistreated by beasts in human shapes

-------------

She remembered the feeling of weightlessness, of being lifted against gravity, the soft whoosh of tulle...

Gas station mart generic whiskey that smells sketchier than bathtub moonshine. Don’t worry about liver damage or going blind because you won’t be drinking it. You’ll need every drop to disinfect cuts and wounds since you and thousands of others in your co

The man with the truncheon emerged at the monorail car's forward connecting doorway. One moment the space was vacant, a faux metal canvas for the dazzling sunlight streaming through a grime-encrusted window. When next Theseus Harrow looked up from his seat the dark-suited…

The dump smelled of the chaos of creation, of rusting metal and burned glass, chemicals and rancid rainwater, wet cardboard and rotting wood, paint slaking off clapboards and drums.

Worldwide, sturdy bells quickly superseded decomposable, and edible, cheese balls as jesters' preferred cap ornaments.

"Baby, he turned gray and dead before he hit the floor".