Category Archives: Issue Two | Fall 2012
Smokey spring air nipped at my nose, ripened with curious stink. Not far, an old man chewed on a thick cigar. He sat perched on the rear bumper of his car. I headed his way.
It’s early April in Philadelphia but the air still hangs frigid with the hollow wind of East Coast winter. We run together through the scumbag streets.
RUG – The color of Grandma’s was brown. She told us it didn’t have to be cleaned as much. The card table’s feet sunk into it as I leaned my elbows next to the now vowel-ridden tray in front of me.
The baby is red faced and his hair is stuck to his head. The backs of my legs are soaking wet as I get out of the car, even though the air conditioner has been on full blast.
As I cross the strip mall parking lot back to my car, digging through my bag for my phone, I’m distracted by the marled swirl of pale purple clouds overhead.
Jeremy’s cabin in the Catskills was small, wooden and russet brown. It was also covered in mouse shit. “You could use some cat skills around here,” I joked, because that’s what I do when I’m nervous.
Father Robinson stabbed a nun to death with a box cutter, burying his bloody sin beneath an altar cloth where she lay bearing thirty-some incisions shaped into an inverted cross. I saw him once.