I stand waiting past midnight in the parking lot of a downtown hotel. An ambulance wails in the distance and from somewhere near, a dog howls in return, as if mourning the already dead. The gray mist, precariously balanced on the roof of the tallest building, jumps, blotting out the neon signs and the speckled, lit windows. I take one last drag and flick the cigarette butt. The ember arcs and crashes in a flurry of sparks. I exhale and listen, reconstructing the last one hundred days of my life. Lili and I met on a dating site and fell in love in no time. On coffee breaks, in between meetings, at red lights and whenever possible, we seized the moment and spent it together. We called and texted, and as we became intricately more involved, we advanced to sexting and Skype sex. When I finally had a chance, I broke my chains and came running to her. The click-clack of heels hammers the pavement. A slim shadow emerges into the cone of light. Lili walks to within an inch of me and sto
Showing posts from July, 2015
- Other Apps
By Chevsapher (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons Daren, his sister, Stella, and their cousins, Elsa, Lizbeth, Nathan, and Jonathan were in the office of Trevor Byrd, attorney at law. Their grandfather, Mr. Pierce Eason, passed away at the age of eighty-eight. He excluded his three surviving children from the will and instead named his six grandchildren as heirs. Jonathan was the designated executor. “Why Jonathan?” Daren asked, betraying his resentment. “According to Mr. Eason," the lawyer replied, "Jonathan’s the only one who’s not… sorry, but I have to use his exact words, ‘… a ne'er-do-well, rich kid.’ Your grandfather started as a ranch hand at a young age. He believed that Jonathan, who actually works for a living, is better qualified to make sound judgments.” A dejected murmur of dissent crescendoed into a collective outcry of indignation. Only Jonathan, standing by the window and looking out, remained silent. “Spare us the crap,” Daren retorted.