FICTION

“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
Albert Camus
Swoon

Jenna says that he typically goes for redheads, so I run to Target and buy a box of hair dye.

forest fire
When The Ten Thousand Ton Trilobite Attacked

We said, Heck, that’s really something.

The Whole Vile Lot

I eat my Oreos with relish. No—I mean I relish in the Oreos I eat.

salt lake
Climb The Highest Mountain

When I was on earth I was a pretty good kid. I only got drunk when I needed to get drunk.

Caricature of B. Lovely

I point my camera towards B. Lovely and she is sitting on the curb.

The Bird That Carried One Hundred Messages To America

At the end of the meeting, the villagers agreed to contribute shillings and pounds to sponsor Elochi to a university in America.

Dead History

Another image rises to us both: A man hunched before a TV, watching historical documentaries, correcting incorrect facts. Rasputin was not a priest, damn it.

Here in East Greenwich

He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.

When Robin Hood Was Caught Dead To Rights

and on and on and on and on they ran, the Merry Men, running from a hundred and one arrows bought with taxes stolen twice over…

You and Jane

You’ve been dreading this day since the moment you found out you were pregnant—perhaps even before.

Demolition

I feel somewhat bad about using the death of my father as an excuse to prolong my trip.

homecoming king and queen
Point Pleasant

Hitting up homes peopled by those with nothing much to lose was an easy score. The less you had, the less likely you were to defend it. But this home was different. Its residents had a lot to lose and the will to fight for it.

dead roses
The Cycle

It all started with the curse of my tits. Women’s bodies are cursed. Everyone tries to look at them, everyone tries to ignore them.

A Eulogy For the Boy I Don’t Love

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.

graffiti on cement
Slabs

We drifted junk with a sledgehammer looking for juice. Sometimes the rage.

The Drift

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.

What Did I Mention To Ya?

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.

Cost of Care

I reached for my invoice, which Dr. George, holding it between thumb and forefinger as if it were a soiled diaper, dropped into my hand.

Evan

The young boy goes to bed and kisses his mother goodnight. He goes to bed and closes his eyes and wishes his family good sleep.

The Sweetness

I’m dancing with my best friend’s husband, under the influence of his jaws and thighs.

Share some abandon.

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