No More X-Files

He holds his magazine open with the pages tucked between his index and middle finger. His index and thumb form a circle and my brain can’t help but spin out and create stories about secret spy signals and how this could be one. Someone roughly whispered in his ear that if he needed help he…

Instruments of Survival

She brushes on her smile with her foundation. One hand holding her compact and mirror, the other working the smile deep into the contours of her face, cementing it in for the rest of the day. As the morning rushes by her outside the train she paints her eyes open and shades them from ill…

Reminder

He is reading a book my grandfather gave me. A book I never finished in time to return it before he died. A book I never got to discuss with him. He is wearing a cap that newspaper boys wear in quaint “historical” movies that make me think of my sister and I playing dress…