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Submitted to Contest #301
“This is my worst nightmare.” “This cannot possibly be your worst nightmare.” “I promise you, it is.” I turn in my seat and face Seth head on. He’s looking at the road in front of us, but when he feels my eyes burning holes into his cheek, he spares me a quick glance. He does not look impressed. “Your worst nightmare is a wrong turn?” He sounds skeptical. “No, my worst nightmare is a wrong turn with no service in the backwoods of northern Michigan with you.” My voice raises with my eyebrows on the last syllable. I knew it was a bad idea t...
Submitted to Contest #300
ACT I It smells different. My first thought, despite all the obvious changes, is that the smell is unfamiliar. Not the vaguely sterile, somewhat floral, heavily human scent of my childhood in the studio, but rather the generic smell of large chain retail stores - new, clean, impersonal. The clothing store sits in a strip mall, wedged between a pharmacy and pet supply shop, its display windows advertising an array of linen pieces in unobtrusive, mostly beige colors. The mannequins modelling the clothes are so foreign to me that when I spied ...
Submitted to Contest #237
In the kitchen, we are swaying, me on my toes and you in your socks. The dishes in the sink are stacked, dirty, and the spilled wine from dinner still stains the countertops crimson. We are too tired to find music, so we dance to the nightly news instead. You spin me through the weather forecast and dip me during the sports update. The home team has won, just like you said they would. You’ve always been good at that, predicting the future. I wonder if you saw this coming; saw us in the kitchen, a tangle of gawky grace and anxious affection. ...
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