We pull off the highway and I stare at the overpass in a daze caused by four hours of sleep followed by nine hours on my feet, and a five hour bus trip that I am just now halfway through. I know we are far from Baldwinsville, but for a moment I swear that when…
Author: littlegentian
I suck at "about me" summaries. I have an MFA in Creative Writing and I love to write. I used to sling coffee for a living, but now I am an administrative assistant. I am the friend who wanders around the world with little to no filters and blurts out every funny story idea that comes to me, but if I don't write them down immediately I forget. I can make almost anything sexual. I love reading Scorpio stereotypes.
Twitter: @mimiscorpion
Tumblr: deviousscorpionangel.tumblr.com
Instagram: michelle.austin29
Communion
He held his phone like he was receiving communion, one big hand cupping the one that was holding the white phone. Veins stood out in the backs of his hands and his forearms. Soft, fine hairs covered his forearms. He was wearing those barefoot shoes. His hands seemed just slightly longer than what was strictly…
Two Phones
He has dry cleaning in his lap, his right ankle resting on his left knee, his right knee pointing up. He’s wearing blue and red argyle socks and black dress shoes with two little buckles on each shoe and no laces. The blue of his button down shirt is only a few shades lighter than…
Anniversary
There was a knock on the door. Quid marked her place and walked over to it. She opened without looking and was surprised to find her whole team there, Hye-Jung at the front holding a tray of rice cakes. Behind her Ivan had a homemade cake with an imperfect 100 in icing decorating the top….
Interstate 81
Sometimes it feels like 81 stretches from one end of the earth to the other. It is the first part of the path forward to New York City and my future, but it also reaches back to Watertown and my first everythings, and it continues to Fort Drum and wasted second chances. Beyond that are…
Baby Soldier
She was tiny with dark curls and bright brown hair. A PC was sliding around her head. It was meant for a bigger head, a soldier’s head. It fell down over her eyes and she tipped around the Laundromat, her tiny baby teeth gleaming, her giggles loud.
Wedding
“I never thought Elita and Moore would get hitched,” Galen said under his breath to Quid as they watched the bridal party move toward the altar. “Why?” Quid asked, leaning closer. He shrugged as he answered, “Thought theirs was more of a ‘fuck it out of their systems’ kind of thing.” Quid though about that….
Unremarkable
His eyes were too close to the surface of his face. He had a protruding forehead, but lacked the haunted, deepset eyes. His nose was unspectacular and undefined, wide and rather flatish, it blended in with the rest of his face. He had dark brown eyes where the pupil was undifferentiated from the iris and…
Laundry
Quid did her laundry once every other Wednesday night. It was when the Laundromat was the emptiest and Quid didn’t have to fight for the machines. She had learned early not to bring reading material with her because shuffling through a stack of books Howard Berg style attracted too much attention and she was hard…
Writing You
She wanted to grab a hold of him and whisper into his sweat-flushed skin: “I think I wrote about you in another life and I traced our lives into your flesh. Tales of seeing you on a packed subway car where the only person I let touch me was you – the stranger in the…
Loss
“Don’t you dare,” Faline snapped and Quid looked up quickly. “I know exactly what is going through your fucked up head so you knock it off right now.” “Fal – ” Quid began. “No, it’s not your fault that Orrick was killed,” Faline said firmly, her cat-green eyes hard. Quid flinched; Faline had never had…
Absorbed
Head bowed over his phone, thumbs moving quickly, headphones in. Dirty blond hair cut close, his neck needs to be shaved soon, little bit of stubble on his cheeks. Backpack between his legs, light brown pants, darker brown shoes. He opens his legs wider, his right foot tipping onto its knife-edge. Not a snub nose…
Little Gentian 