Of unexpectedly racy stories, a dangerous thought, and being thirsty in the traditional sense.

  1. I’d be warmer if I ran, but the ache in the missing bone reminds me she’s right: Walk until you can run.
  2. “I had always detonated each thing in the very place where I found it.”
  3. Literary short fiction leaves me with an odd taste, a sense of missing the point that’s bitter and foreign, like the wrong sweetener in my coffee. A resigned longing for understanding that I don’t have time to tease out.
  4. There has to be a name for this gear, this organic way I write about ideas all the time. It used to be my job. I’m beginning to think it may just be me.
  5. A perfect sky.
  6. What if we just went for it?
  7. I fixate on the price, the time, the price, the work, the price, the pitch, the price.
  8. She has no idea what the word means, but hearing it in her tiny, innocent voice shoots ice through my veins and knots my stomach. I’m not ready for this.
  9. His life as an example given in metaphor. The greatest parable ever told.
  10. I mean to take a sip to wash down the half sandwich before bed but chug the entire liter. I wish my body and I could come to an understanding about much water and when. Neither of us appreciates the midnight pee run.

Author: Ellie

Uppity stardust. Will eat (almost) anything.

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