Tag Archives: writing

Every town has one, you know. The place on the other side of the railroad tracks. The ‘wrong’ side, some say. After dark, for some reason, the streetlights there just don’t shine like they do on the right side. I … Continue reading →

Pick up the phone. Please, pick up the phone. I know you’re there; I know you’re listening to it ringing. I know that you never turn it off; you keep saying you will, but I know you haven’t, yet. I … Continue reading →

I can hear them getting closer. In the back, where it’s warm up against the boiler, I can smell the tang of must and mold; if I breathe heavy, it curls up in my mouth and nose, something like a … Continue reading →

I can hear them getting closer. In the back, where it’s warm up against the boiler, I can smell the tang of must and mold; if I breathe heavy, it curls up in my mouth and nose, something like a … Continue reading →

If I hadn’t had it replaced by a silent model, I would’ve thought you heard my heart in my chest. If I hadn’t gotten that ‘auto adjust’ option on my irises, I could’ve let you be the only thing in … Continue reading →