The sun crept over the horizon as Danny Noonan continued to have sex with Tammy Hayes. His heart beat faster with each thrust . . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
A liquid light cleanses the air, splashes mirrors across the passing car windows. Here she comes, obesity incarnate, à la Samantha, trudging along oblivious to the sun puddles on the sidewalk . . .
It all started with that damned umbrella . . .
Her message said eight and so I was there eight sharp like a good little lapdog. Marla had a way of reaching inside of me and ripping out my backbone . . .
It had been two years since I had a drink, and life was looking up. I was in Cuernavaca, Mexico, taking care of my grandfather. . .
It hadn’t been half an hour since they settled in when Winston started up . . .
The sun is only just getting tired, sliding itself down behind the row of houses on the other side of Missouri. The sky is gray and restless. “Might be one of them derechos tonight . . .”
Every South London borough has a murder mile. A stab alley. A no-man’s land patrolled by kids steeled with knives . . .
Featured: Black Interest
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- We Matter: Athletes and Activism
- I Love You Too
- Not for Everyday Use
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- The System of Dante’s Hell
- Haiti Noir 2: The Classics
- A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond, as told to Percival Everett & James Kincaid (A Novel)
- The Family Mansion
- The Gospel According to Cane
- Home: Social Essays
- Hadriana in All My Dreams