Lights

“I don’t love you anymore.” I sat there, spacing out to the middle-distance. I felt my left eyelid twitch a few times, before subsiding. I nodded. “It’s not anything you did,” she continued. “I just feel like we’ve both started growing in different directions. Drifting apart. And I know how sad you are when I’m … Continue reading Lights

A 7am Commute

Staring didn't accomplish much, though the riders seemed to think that if they looked long and hard enough at the intercom they could make the conductor cease his morning announcements. It was a rainy Friday morning, not even 7am. You could tell the seasoned Chicago veterans from the newbies by the umbrellas casually dangling from … Continue reading A 7am Commute

Natalie

My next place, she muses, will have hardwood floors, shining in their newness. It will have high ceilings and many, many windows, so that the sun can beam through. Perhaps she'll have a cat, and her cat will nap in the pools of sunshine pouring into the apartment, heating those hardwood floors. She walks over … Continue reading Natalie

Amélie

She leans back and the light from outside the window flashes on her exposed teeth, framed by slightly parted lips. The vintage gramophone on her nightstand has been trumpeting the orchestral "Non, je ne regretted rein," over and over for the past hour. She doesn't tire of it, and moves the needle to play it … Continue reading Amélie