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Weekly Contest #374
I had been drunk for five days by that point, or it might have been six or ten. It was typical for my sense of time to recede with the tide during my episodes. The street stretched thin and bleary in front of me, and had it not been for the perpetual rain I would have wandered aimlessly all night. But I was soaked and dizzy, the alcohol no longer insulating me from the harsh December wind. Or it might have been January. These walks often started with no destination in mind and ended in places that appeared light-years away from the comfort o...
Weekly Contest #373
There were five of us in Calder House that night. I was sure of that because, on most occasions, we were four, so the odd number stood out to me. Eliott and I had been Eliott-and-me for the better part of three years at university. James and Nina were our respective roommates and best friends by proximity and, somewhere along the way, by choice. We moved through campus as a unit, like atoms in a molecule, individually identifiable but rarely encountered apart. We were loud, speaking so fervently over one another without ever quite interrupti...
Weekly Contest #372
We all saw in black and white. I lived in an apartment building that appeared no different than the one next to it, or the one next to that. The mornings, on a good day, were simply white. The nights were always saturated in black. Everyone was accustomed to our bicolored reality because that’s all we’d ever known, but it wasn’t established with the same certainty across all people. My parents used to see in color, but my grandparents did not. Perception alternated with lineage, one generation inherited color, the next did not. The knowledge...
Weekly Contest #371
From the pictures, the hotel looked majestic during the summer. Gilded in sunlight, umbrellas lined the terrace while women in abstract sunglasses lounged beside the infinity pool, drinking things with slices of orange floating in them. But it was November, that time of year when everything feels like a terminal illness, and the windows on the upper floors were dead. Rain pelted the asphalt when I arrived at the seaside hotel, armed with a single duffel and a coat that was all but wilting. The lobby was dim, and had it not been for the two f...
At night, the laundromat became its own small universe. The dryers turned like planets, the fluorescent lights overhead doing a poor imitation of the sun. Beyond the windows, everything was black enough to feel endless. When I was younger, I used to imagine that the moon had feelings because she seemed to belong to every lonely person at once. I wrote prose about her. In my mind, she was a pale woman with hair so dark it turned blue under harsh light, silver rings on every finger. She was exiled, but only because she had chosen it. Every nig...
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