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Weekly Contest #371
There was a man from New Brunswick who said this always happened. “I stayed here last year,” he huffed. “It happened three times, always in the middle of the night.”Reggie stood on the guesthouse stoop with an off-season tourist on either side of her and four across. Only she and the man from New Brunswick were North American. Everyone else was German or French. This made the man from New Brunswick even more insufferable. Only he possessed clean, accentless English. Only he could also converse in French with a pretty girl in a silk...
Winner of Weekly Contest #368 🏆
New records are silent. When Imogen touches them she can’t hear a thing. She’s tried removing the shrink wrap, holding them up to her ear, and softly nibbling the cardboard ends like hot slices of pizza. She’s given up and asked Geoff, her boss, to excuse her on new release day. “I’ll work any other day but Monday. I can’t work amongst all this SILENCE.” “Midgey.” The last time she asked him, he played a Lana Del Rey record on the shop’s turntable. “Listen, will you?” He put a hand behind his ear. “There she is! Warbling on about love ...
Weekly Contest #367
That particular evening I’d opened the smudged glass door of a small theater in North Hollywood. A sign on the door advertised open casting.A man took my name and asked for head shots. He was tall in the wrong kind of way–at least 6’4”– and I could tell by the way he turned up his eyebrows that he hugged shorter women for almost a minute and closed his eyes while he did it.“I don’t have head shots. I have these.”The only professional photographs of me were taken in San Francisco the year before. I’d had professional hair and makeup done as a...
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