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Weekly Contest #285
Now I can't return to the patio bar. I can't remember the way. Perhaps I want it too much.He leaned in. His body. Bergamot and citrus. His muskiness. A curl falling before my eye, a knuckle pressing upon my temple. Studied grace. Sleep whispered, ‘come.’ Coruscating tikis. His stubbled jaw, now a hooded eye. Moistening breath warm on my neck, bittersweet. A smoldering cigarette. A Sazerac melting the rocks in a low ball on a high top. I rise from bed. Pink slippers, slightly soiled, spilled coffee. Taking up my fraying shawl, quiet...
Weekly Contest #284
Note: This story contains a scene of accidental death. It describes cruelty toward animals. It includes a letter written from the perspective of a combatant in wartime, describing some of the difficult things he has witnessed there. The goldfinches arrived sparkling upon the landing the same day that Ernesto returned, alone, bearing his news like a rucksack full of stones, weighing down each doleful step in a cloud of San Luis dust. I noticed the goldfinches through the kitchen window, gathering upon the cement outside the door, and flutt...
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