The men and women in reflections only meet us when we meet them. Our relationship is one only in passing and it seems like every time we are reintroduced to them, they bare a striking resemblance to ourselves. They wear the same clothes, styled their hair the same way, even brought along the same items like a bag or groceries. But I wonder if they ever feel the same way that we do. I wonder if we go to meet them they are happy and the same things that we're happy about, or struggling with the same difficulties that life...
"Wait, so he hit you?"
“No, I told you. He whispered just before I woke up.” I had already told the story a couple of times and Jack wasn’t listening. Obviously the porn on his cell phone far more interesting.
The voice had been at that moment when you feel yourself falling and jerk awake. ‘I really want to take you with me but I’m not allowed.’
Disorientated after several false awakenings, I felt extraordinarily tired. The short nap when my friend had gone for pizza had been a mistake. Struggling to a sitting position there was no sign of...
The constant clicking of the camera's shutter was the only sound in the studio for a full fifteen seconds until the photographer sighed in frustration and lowered the Nikon. "Honey, you're not making this easy on me. I need more steam, more heat, more 'you know you want what I'm selling' attitude."
Tugging at the unbuttoned plaid shirt that had been rolled up and tied just below her breasts, the woman in front of the camera tipped back the cowboy hat she was wearing and blew at an errant strand of hair that had fallen across her brow. "What exactly...
"Surprise!" The lights flickered on, and the balloons flew up to the ceiling. I jumped back, startled. A surprise birthday party! My grin reached both my ears.
"Oh boy! Thanks, guys!" I ran up and hugged my dad.
"That's alright, my boy. Look, there's your presents! Go open them, kid." I disengaged and rushed over to the pile of gifts. I ripped them open, tearing the wrapping paper into tiny shreds. The first one I opened was the best.
It was a dinosaur costume set of pyjamas. I immediately rushed to my bedroom and put them on, and ran back...
Our city used to have one psychic, an old blonde woman who read palms and tarot out of her ground floor apartment. Her name was Liza and she spoke with a rolling California speech, peppering every other sentence with "fer sures" and "gnarlies".
Since the housing crisis, the population of palmists has grown. There is a stretch of road on Congress Street where seven women ply their trade, each operating from their own storefront. They are the only profession that seems to be growing, buying up empty retail locations.
It's worth noting that the women are just mere footsteps from...
A Sad State of Affairs
It is three o’clock in the afternoon and she has kept the same position since breakfast, writing in her journal, nursing each fresh drink, drawing it out so that her budget (small) will see her through until she is forced to give up her seat. She is in no hurry to leave, having nowhere else to go, no pressing appointment – except with home, and the house is depressingly quiet and yet still too full, inhabited by a long line of hours waiting impatiently to be filled, the space between now and then too vast...
The conversation lasted two words. Alien Origin.
The scientist was shot in the head after his pronouncement. The trail brought to a halt. The military chief hearing the evidence verified, used his own pistol and was returning it to his pocket and issuing orders for the body to be removed when he received a very unexpected call.
His wife. She knew not to ever call him at work. But from the tone of her voice after she had finally been put through, something was seriously wrong at home.
Ordinarily anything to do with his work, was the priority. But not...
The safari proved to be the biggest mistake of the Henderson family's vacation. First, a rhino attempted to mate with their station wagon, then an enormous elephant slung an entire tree at them. What really topped off the misery, though, was what happened with the lions.
I'd tell you all about it, but I just got called into my boss's office, so just know this: teenage girls equal big cat Meow Mix.
Pollution is an artist
and poison is a poet
Death is the brightest of colors
Noise is the sweetest song
Pollution won a grant
and poison won a fellowship
We're meeting for drinks downtown
to celebrate their well-deserved
recognition.
We'd been here once before. Staring through tiny holes on a weird-shaped box staring down at the bustling city below us. This time is different. This time he tells me he's ending it. No, not with me, with his fiance of merely two months who he works with at a dive bar down South. Naturally, I thought his engagement the week of my wedding was ludicrous to begin with. A Sapphire instead of a diamond on the hand of a girl with striped purple hair. She wasn't his type.
I gave my condolences, I guess that's the right word, I...