I do invite the kids to have a drink every now and again in the European tradition, and often someone will in fact raise their eyes at me.
You will spend your entire life selling – but this is the first time. So small, you barely reach the counter. You are given a stool.
Tunde calls Elisa between ten and eleven o’clock at night, from his second job, the group home where he is paid to sleep on a living room sofa.
We went to your last concert, our grins purple with wine.
The thing is we have been selling these chocolate bars door-to-door in Winesburg for as long as we can remember.
Do you remember the day we met? Fire at the border? The riot in the square? The mountains in the distance blossoming with artillery, the smoke rising into the storm clouds like some ancient spirit finally let loose?
“I need to paint your portrait,” Marnie’s husband, Lee, told her. “It’s for class.”
I am named for my grandfather’s mistress, in acknowledgment of her extraordinary generosity.
Flat Stanley investigates Velma’s murder and also what it means that her knee-high socks score a C on the Zettai Ryouiki scale.
I was in a booth with a former student at B-Dubs, the one place in town with a decent draft selection.
“Look at all these motherfucking leaves!” yelled a man on the street in front of my house. The man laughed. “Look at this shit, will you?”
The snows never came this winter, and now the state is on fire. The map on the FIRE! website shows a little red flame for each fire.
Brian Kiteley has published three novels, most recently The River Gods.
Yes, she is a princess, only she’s not exactly pretty. She isn’t repulsive, but kind of, sure.
I tell you I’ve only ever shown it to a girl who I met on a tour bus in Moscow, where I was traveling with my parents. She had bad acne, and she really liked Duran Duran.
In the barren cold camp, you wear a dusty cape and top hat, wave my cane as if it were a wand and tell me your dream-stories, one after the next, your words spun and tossed like tethers into the air.
Ignis, the flaming wreckage, bubbling rubber, liquified cloth, her skin charred and blistering, acrid smoke, the tiny thunders of survival’s kicks