It's a sunny Sunday afternoon —celebratory day: the sun hadn't visited your city's sky in ages— and you're out in the flea market. Browsing the offerings among the throng of people: old things ... [+]
Short Fiction
It's a sunny Sunday afternoon —celebratory day: the sun hadn't visited your city's sky in ages— and you're out in the flea market. Browsing the offerings among the throng of people: old things ... [+]
I. Sober
Mrs. Anna Shaw dreaded Saturdays, though if you asked her why, she wouldn't have known exactly what to say. "Dinner just doesn't feel right," she might say, tugging thoughtfully at he
... [+]
Her eyes have been open for half an hour now in the darkness of the bedroom. She always prefers to wait for the sunrise. Gently, she removes the thick duvet and seeks out the warmth of her slippers ... [+]