FICTION
“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
Directly after the arrival of the Armada, this model made sense, as the gap between Unthulanian and Human cultures prevented a commensurable exchange of practices…
He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.
Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.
To be encased, Clint had always thought, was foolishness. Why allow yourself to be open to such sorrow?
On the first day of our new life together, my husband realized that I was not interested in theoretical debate. He said it was okay by him and went out to get some pancake mix.
The day does not conclude with the gentle exhale of the earth, but with Mother Superior flipping the hourglass over, again.
“The woman was a catastrophe,” Carlos told me at the time. “But she was as honest as my face is ugly.”
Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.
I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.
I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…
Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.
I know you shouldn’t keep wild animals as pets, but I’ve had the same spider in my bathroom sink for over two weeks.
None speak of how the streets collide in coarse seams like scars, the fresh cobbles unable to level with the ones shaken from their mortar by uncountable seasons.
It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.
And then he feels that familiar sensation of drifting—when his body untethers from the material world and he soon dissolves into a fine, floating mist that evaporates into the atmosphere.
Darkness always follows.
The most entertaining thing about Miguel is that when he was 13 he dislocated his shoulder playing basketball and can now pop it in and out of place. There is nothing particularly interesting about Miguel.
Share some abandon.
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