A young man sits alone at a bar, poring over a magazine. A rare caucasian in a mega-city of Asians, his solitude at the busy hub of social interaction is highlighted. Sturdy hiking boots tap out the rhythm to a lively Irish song that a live band is playing in the middle of Shibuya. His…
Tag: creative writing
Looks Like Home
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
Veins
Delicately protruding veins lace the back of her hand and her knuckles are slightly red. She’s carrying a bouquet of flowers – yellow and purple. Three bracelets on her right wrist, metallic black stones, a silver circlet charm bracelet, and rosy pink-brown stones. Dyed auburn hair and her eyes are closed behind her sunglasses. Pale…
Clown
She had long, thin, coltish legs and wore shorts with a high waist that covered her bellybutton. Her Dijon mustard yellow shirt was a crop top that exposed a few inches of skin. Her long wavy hair was loose and fell down past her shoulders, a few shades off from her shirt. But what drew…
Little Gentian 