John pt.3

I must’ve been what? Sixteen or seventeen? Something young. That golden age when kids – especially boys, you know – think they can do anything. Youth is arrogance and beauty’s bastard child. Anyway, all my friends were graduating high school with me. Most were headed off for college somewhere and the rest had a job… Read More John pt.3

Call Me

I’ve got to see you soon or I’ll go mad. I think I might miss you. Maybe. I’m not sure. It’s that I have an affliction, see. Like short-term memory loss but worse. It’s not names or places or rudimentary material like that. Nothing you can write down in a journal and list out. Those… Read More Call Me

Fake

I’m breaking up with you. For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. She’s saving you the trouble of it all and doing what you’ve been planning for weeks. But now to look contrite and remorseful. No need to publicize the fact that you’ve known the relationship was more dead than the sushi you had… Read More Fake

Almost

She had a name so familiar it felt like your own. Picture her standing there, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other on the window, fingertips pressed against the glass. Just to see, she says, just to see if it’s too cold. For you. It doesn’t matter what the weather channel says. Doesn’t… Read More Almost