What You Do the Morning It All Ends
There is no fucking coffee left.
Tag Archives: flash fiction
Balance
I am not a dancer.
The Collective
I found a dead woman’s shadow once, while walking the streets of Nagasaki.
Shoeless
The world’s oldest known shoe is little more than a sandal…
The Stain
A gunshot is a deceptively simple thing.
She Wore Red
And nothing else.
Those Eyes
For years, Hollister’s Toy Shop on Pembrose Lane was a beloved destination of the city’s residents. Within the confines of his workshop, Mr. Hollister produced mechanical wonderments the likes of which no one had ever seen: wind-up tin soldiers who could march in perfect formation