The American dream. The human dream. Like a phoenix rising from a 9 to 5 to become a name even your parents recognize. Night shifts are swapped for night clubs and auto payments for autographs. We obsess over those who reach this goal and paint them the perfect life. It's not long before the emptiness- the same one that plagues the poor and mundane- leaks through the cracks of their perfect life for the world to view like a film. For some reason, our goal doesn't change. We still reach for a broken dream.
3

You might also like…

Creative Nonfiction

Chaim's Golem

Avra Margariti

I got the idea from one of your old stories. Building golems out of river mud and whatnot. Except I didn't want a golem. I just wanted you back by my side.

Peddling clayware in the sweltering ...  [+]

Creative Nonfiction
Creative Nonfiction