Post on 07-Aug-2015
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. It knows
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows it costs only a dollar eighty
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty in the window.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash, he bares teeth
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. She brings the bun to the man
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in crepe paper, she brings the bun out to the man
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in crepe paper, she brings the bun out to the man, who instantly unwraps it
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in paper, she brings the bun out to the man, who instantly unwraps it and bites into it.
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in paper, she brings the bun out to the man, who instantly unwraps it and bites into it. The bun bursts
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in paper, she brings the bun out to the man, who instantly unwraps it and bites into it. The bun bursts, oozing satisfaction.
Bun
A big, steamed, soft, pillowy pork bun sits in the warmer, white sides clenched, waiting for a matching set of teeth. Sticky and solid, it knows with pride and humility it costs only a dollar eighty. A man appears in the window. His pupils flash the warmer’s gleam, he bares the three pale teeth that life has left him. The woman behind the counter feels a twinge she cannot explain. Wrapping it in paper, she brings the bun out to the man, who instantly unwraps it and bites into it. The bun bursts, oozing satisfaction.
by Eliza Jerrett
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the window
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog.
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. It was important he didn’t chip.
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip.
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet.
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I set him on the new blonde dresser
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors.
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay, crouched
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay, crouched and resplendent
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay, crouched and resplendent, watching the tiny room
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay, crouched and resplendent, watching the tiny room with his wide white eyes.
Memento
The week I moved, I bought a bright blue wooden frog, and set him in a diagonal on my dresser. The wind bustled through the open window, knocked over empty boxes, but not the frog. When packing, I wrapped him in woolen socks. It was important he didn’t chip, though one would hardly know, with his intricate markings and strange, triangular feet. I took my time unpacking him, and set him on the new blonde dresser where I’d set all the mirrors. He seems content to stay, crouched and resplendent, watching the tiny room with his wide white eyes.
by Eliza Jerrett
The Christmas tablecloth, creased unevenly from the weight of winter sweaters, peers through the cracked closet door. Straining her threads, she waits.
The Christmas tablecloth, creased unevenly from the weight of winter sweaters, peers through the cracked closet door. Sandals shuffle and clack by. Straining her threads, she waits.
The Christmas tablecloth, creased unevenly from the weight of winter sweaters, peers through the cracked closet door. Sandals shuffle and clack by. The unencumbered, muddy feet of children slap the laminate floor. Straining her threads, she waits.
The Christmas tablecloth, creased unevenly from the weight of winter sweaters, peers through the cracked closet door. Sandals shuffle and clack by. The unencumbered, muddy feet of children slap the laminate floor. Straining her threads, she waits for wet boots and wool socks.
The Christmas tablecloth, creased unevenly from the weight of winter sweaters, peers through the cracked closet door. Sandals shuffle and clack by. The unencumbered, muddy feet of children slap the laminate floor. Straining her threads, she waits for wet boots and wool socks.
by Abigail White
Out of Season
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. They reminisce while tying and untying each other’s laces.
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. They reminisce about marathons while tying and untying each other’s laces to stay warm.
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. They reminisce about marathons while tying and untying each other’s laces to stay warm. “Has Rob forgotten?” the left sneaker asks one morning.
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. They reminisce about marathons while tying and untying each other’s laces to stay warm. “Has Rob forgotten us?” the left sneaker asks one morning after a bitter rain storm. “I’m afraid,” the right sneaker says, shivering,
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. Reminiscing about marathons, they tie and untie each other’s laces to stay warm. “Has Rob forgotten us?” the left sneaker asks one morning after a bitter rain storm. “I’m afraid he has,” the right sneaker says, shivering, curling her tongue.
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. Reminiscing about marathons, they tie and untie each other’s laces to stay warm. “Has Rob forgotten us?” the left sneaker asks one morning after a bitter rain storm. “I’m afraid he has,” the right sneaker says, shivering, curling her tongue. Rob shuffles out to take the Christmas lights down; his belly brushes the railing.
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. Reminiscing about marathons, they tie and untie each other’s laces to stay warm “Has Rob forgotten us?” the left sneaker asks one morning after a bitter rain storm. “I’m afraid he has,” the right sneaker says, shivering, curling her tongue. Rob shuffles out to take the Christmas lights down; reaching high, his plump belly brushes the railing.
Neglect
A pair of sneakers waits toe to toe on a neighboring porch rail, damp soles beginning to mold. Reminiscing about marathons, they tie and untie each other’s laces to stay warm “Has Rob forgotten us?” the left sneaker asks one morning after a bitter rain storm. “I’m afraid he has,” the right sneaker says, shivering, curling her tongue. Rob shuffles out to take the Christmas lights down; reaching high, his plump belly brushes the railing.
by Abigail White
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” asks one.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one roommate. The other shrugs.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems to be coming
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems to be coming from the big
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner.
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. He strides
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years of disuse
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years of disuse, is a black
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years of disuse, is a black landline
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years of disuse, is a black landline telephone.
Noise
A loud noise rips the peace of an afternoon when two roommates sit, playing on their cell phones. “What was that?” says one. The other shrugs. The noise stops and they return to their games. A few seconds later, the noise starts again. The first roommate bounds to his feet, dropping his phone. The sound seems to be coming from the big, stuffed Pikachu in the corner. Swallowing terror, he strides to the corner, and rips the yellow creature from its perch. There, dusty from years of disuse, is a black landline telephone.
by Eliza Jerrett
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves.
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves.
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Yesterday’s towel drapes the crown. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves.
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Yesterday’s towel drapes the top; a lacrosse jersey swallows a clump of leaves, sleeves trailing to the floor. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves,
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Yesterday’s towel drapes the crown; a lacrosse jersey swallows a clump of leaves, sleeves trailing to the floor. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves, claws the stunted trunk.
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Yesterday’s towel drapes the crown; a lacrosse jersey swallows a clump of leaves, sleeves trailing to the floor. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves, claws the stunted trunk, and luxuriates in a yowl.
Olly launches laundry at the dogwood growing through a crack in his bedroom floor. Yesterday’s towel drapes the crown; a lacrosse jersey swallows a clump of leaves, sleeves trailing to the floor. Dark, bare branches jut out. Mom raps at the door. The cat chews fallen leaves, claws the stunted trunk, and luxuriates in a yowl.
The Things We Hide
by Abigail White
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Ian’s nose.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Ian’s nose. A pop. A prick.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Ian’s nose. The corkscrew gleams a twisted smile. A pop. A prick.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Ian’s nose. The corkscrew gleams a twisted smile as he skewers a bottle of Korbel. A pop. A prick.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Ian’s nose. The corkscrew gleams a twisted smile as he skewers a bottle of Korbel. A pop. Fraying cork flesh clings to the silver spiral snags. A prick.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Marie’s nose. The corkscrew gleams a twisted smile as she skewers a bottle of Korbel. A pop. Fraying cork flesh clings to the silver spiral snags. A prick. Handsome silver clatters to the floor.
Garlic cloves, like lost teeth, trail along the counter where the corkscrew lies. Yesterday’s balsamic reduction, cold on the stove, fills Marie’s nose. The corkscrew gleams a twisted smile as she skewers a bottle of Korbel. A pop. Fraying cork flesh clings to the silver spiral snags. A prick. Handsome silver clatters to the floor.
Bon Vivant
by Abigail White
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark,
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark, heavy sheet
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark, heavy sheet, pulled
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark, heavy sheet, pulled with a hiss
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark, heavy sheet, pulled with a hiss past your toes.
Quiet Time
A centipede, crossing a room, drags the silence with him, clutching its hem between his hairy knuckles. You suddenly see the weight of it, there on the edge of your couch, on the edge of your drink. A dark, heavy sheet, pulled with a hiss past your toes.
by Eliza Jerrett
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the way hot sauce shocks
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs skitter.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter, cars swerve.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly, burst.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises.
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear around the corner
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear off around the corner, dressed alike
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear off around the corner, dressed alike, faces slick
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear off around the corner, all giggles, dressed alike, faces slick with identical grins, foamy
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear off around the corner, all giggles, dressed alike, faces slick with identical grins, foamy with invisibility.
Celebration
One June afternoon, two teenage boys light firecrackers in the street, shocking the gray day the way hot sauce shocks the tongue. Dogs and pedestrians skitter and shriek, cars swerve wildly. The boys have rigged the bursts to blow like Christmas lights, one after another, a long string of surprises. They tear off around the corner, all giggles, dressed alike, faces slick with identical grins, foamy with invisibility.
by Eliza Jerrett