“don’t move. i’ve almost got your left eye.”
kevin does as he’s told, watching rachel scribble and erase, scribble and erase.
“are you almost done?”
she focuses on the sheet of paper in front of her, “every time you move, you make it take longer.” read more >
max sits on the couch, a news bulletin has interrupted his basketball game.
his roommate looks up from facebook.
“what is it?”
“another guy killing defenseless people.”
read more >
think of the millions of cars on this planet.
the millions driving around. the millions rusting in wrecking yards and standing on blocks. the millions that exist only in the memory of humans long dead.
so many goddamn cars. why would he ever think he could possibly make it to work on time? read more >
another unfamiliar bed. although this one is oddly familiar.
she stares at the institutional acoustic paneling on the ceiling, looking for patterns in the tiny holes, stringing together constellations, waiting for the transition between one unreality and another. read more >