Potty training. So . . .
Tag: flash fiction
The body didn’t belong in the freezer. It belonged in the Pasadena sunshine, skateboarding down the uneven sidewalks, cycling around McDonald Park, kicking a soccer ball around the Rose Bowl . . .
The next morning Anoush left so early with Baba Bijan that the chill of the night air still hung over the desert . . .
On the last day of November, Chip spent his hour commute composing a suicide letter in his head, absently passing pokey sedans, picturing his boss’s face when the dickhead heard about the tragedy . . .
Elizabeth didn’t know what to do. Go along with the kid holding the knife and the other kid with the gun? Lie? Try to escape? . . .
Progress. Ronald laughed ruefully at the concept. Sure, yeah, that’s what he was looking at. Or a physical manifestation of it anyway . . .
Me and Tino are sitting in the bay window of the lobby. Our building, like the other brown, seven-storied buildings around it, is really majestic just people never take the time to look at it . . .
Jay sat cross-legged under a cobia tree, the majestic Mayan tree of life, where the gods hung out to keep an eye on their minions below . . .