Exciting news in the upcoming future: I will be tabling for my publishing imprint, Sincerely Analog, at the Short Run Small Press Festival up in Seattle on Saturday, November 30th! The festival will take place at Seattle’s Washington Hall (153 14th Avenue) from 11am to 6pm. If you’re in the area you should definitely drop by!
I WET my lips with the tip of my tongue, leave it protruding for a beat, reel it back in. Is she watching? She must know I do it for her. Is she watching? I sit up straight, order whiskey, no rocks. Is she watching? I laugh, make a joke. Is she watching? I walk to the men’s room, saunter. Is she watching? I return, swing my leg over the back of the chair, knock over a bottle of beer. Damn, is she watching? Is she watching?
SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, fragile, and afraid, a peacock in a hailstorm. We sat together on the couch, waiting for the car horn. It sounded at last and I held her hand as we pushed through the snow in the driveway. I turned away after I buckled her into the back seat. Don wouldn’t look at me, but reached back, touched her knee. I watched them drive off, then walked back to the house, careful not to step into her footprints.
AFTER SHE FLED he became his own wife, ironing in his underwear, dusting the shelves, moving the figurines to the dining-room table then replacing them carefully when he’d finished waxing the cabinet. Wearing her apron he often made casseroles. Sometimes he’d sit on her closet floor and move his face through her dresses, like a dog searching in a field of high grass.
—Lou Beach. The stories were written as status updates on a large social-networking site. These updates were limited to 420 characters, including letters, spaces, and punctuation.
Illustration by the author.