Second-Hand Sunglasses

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The Saturday before school started, Tina and her mom went to Second Hand Love for back-to-school clothes. Tina hated the feeling of wearing someone else’s jeans, but after a few wears she forgot all about it. After all, one could … Continue reading →

Without the Map

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I tried to forgive them, for my sanity’s sake, but the longer I sat there the more I wanted revenge. Imagining walking back to town through the piss-soaked streets, the mud so thick it formed an unwieldy suction around every step, my jaw stiffened. … Continue reading →

Fiction: The Jacket

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Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold on Southern California, mildly nipping them in the April night air. A group of ten stood in the parking lot of the Starbird diner after several hours of milkshakes, curly fries and tossing … Continue reading →

Fiction: Roses for Elise

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As she glided through the coffee shop, not one person looked up to mark her passage. She sliced through the crowd like a knife through warm butter, the atmosphere around her yielding and pliable. Men and women sat across from each … Continue reading →

The Green Fairy

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“Damn it!” Lon slurred, tilting the bottle upside down. “We’re all out.” Some of the absinthe splashed from his glass to his neckcloth, leaving unseemly green splotches on the white linen. Ricard laughed, dealing another hand as he spoke. “I … Continue reading →

Fiction: The Night Guard

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It had rained all day, and in the late evening mist still rose from the pavement. This made Stan’s job harder. More room for error: distraction, misplaced evidence, footprints. So much more could go wrong when the world was sopping … Continue reading →

Fiction: The Boy They Hadn’t Seen

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He had it coming to him, alright. Everyone in the neighborhood agreed that Marty Polks deserved whatever he got. He yelled at the kids who ran onto his lawn to retrieve stray soccer balls. He harrumphed the neighborhood moms who … Continue reading →

The Room at the End of the Hall

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I had been aware of Margery’s affair for some time, even if only subconsciously. A man of patience, that’s how I like to think of myself. I merely looked the other way at her subtle tells; the nights when she’d … Continue reading →

The Salon

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It was impossible. No woman, much less a lady of nobility, should be exposed to such filth, though it masqueraded as art. Monsieur le Beau had already fought with the others to keep the painting out of the Salon, although really … Continue reading →