My Dream Cabin Rests In Her Eyes

Molecules vibrate, closing in on my skin, expanding their distance between love and pain, yanking at my vocal cords. I form I hate you with my lips, but the words refuse to see the light of day. Despair drips, like a Chinese torture technique, flooding my wherewithal to put together sentences, creeping up the hill of my insecurity to invade

Evil Ice Cream Truck Driver

“What flavor you want, ma’am?” I ask. “I’ll take an ice cream sandwich.” “Those, yeah. We got some,” I say, darting my eyes either way and licking my lips on the sly. “Doin’ this as a full-time job, dude?” the woman asks. Heat races through my face, and my palms turn cold to the touch. Think

A Robbery On Christmas. (“I need cash for my kids’ gifts!”)

“Move, and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Jodie said, holding a 9 millimeter to the clerk’s head. “This is a robbery. Give me all your money.” The clerk licks her finger, turning pages in a Vogue magazine. “Let me finish reading the last paragraph.” “Did you hear me?” Jodie asks. “Look, lady,” the clerk says, “My