Tag Archives: sb

I stood out front of her second story apartment building staring at the parking lot and the overcast sky. I wanted to go to the desert, towards Arizona or Las Vegas, quit everything and just go. Why not, you know? … Continue reading →

After three days of unanswered phone calls he arrived to inspected sheets, the desk, and the refrigerator for signs of life to no avail. In the late afternoon he collapses in her bedroom amidst a pile of clothes that occupy … Continue reading →

An email from an old friend said something about finding old photos before slyly included a “did you happen to hear…” She hadn’t. Searching across computer screens and small print, he finally appeared with bleached teeth and forehead wrinkles. It … Continue reading →

The first time he heard “fuck” was a Saturday, outside an empty office. Two men were throwing buckets of mud at the windows of the building. Their faces looked stuck in the rain or of someone discovering their milk had … Continue reading →

The man handed him his I.D. as protocol for a withdrawal. “This doesn’t look like you…” “Moustache.” The man responded calmly. Morgan scrutinized the photo then noticed the peculiar name. “L? What kind of name is L? It sounds like … Continue reading →

“How is that kid of yours,Warren?” asks the morning waitress with a forgettable name. Amongst Keno screens and antique décor he stares at a painting called, “Brussels et Aux Sportifs”, and thinks about two identical others he painted while smoking … Continue reading →

She appeared naked in the window like a middle-aged woman in France he saw one summer in a hot alley, two stories up, smoking a cigarette, looking over the jagged rooftops of her arrondissement. It was subtle, beautiful, cliché. The … Continue reading →

Before gravity did its dirty work he had been with a few. When combs weren’t enemies and cheap beer didn’t do anything but get you drunk. Now he reconsidered bars as a viable option for companionship. It was a mess … Continue reading →

Tired of pumping gas, stupid customer jokes, staring at the same four-lane road, St. Jeffery’s Southern Shack, Bar 85 and Walmart, he threw his uniform on the counter and said “Fuck this.” He called a girl who made him feel … Continue reading →

Morgan arrives home late after another mildly exciting night with co-workers at some downtown bars. Before his key hits the lock, he stops to the sound of a frail voice. Across the street, an old lady with wild hair and … Continue reading →

Cold Berliners breaking down a wall with kitchen utensils and overgrown fingernails while a Russian man with an ink blotch forehead watched on from a large carpeted room in Moscow led to a New Mexico Uranium mine to close its … Continue reading →

Some chicas were eating outside of Don Pedro’s with crispy Aqua Net hair and hoop earrings talking fast Spanglish. No doubt it was about quiet boys with slicked back hair who looked unaffected and hung out in groups of ten-plus … Continue reading →

“Yeah… traffic is so bad people actually read in their cars while stuck in rush hour.” Never having been to Los Angeles, Kamile closes her eyes and imagines a middle-aged white man in a freshly washed, black Mercedes with the … Continue reading →