He stared at last year’s decorations. Lots had changed since…She had gone, for good this time, leaving him with the young one and a house payment. His hours had been cut back. The world spun, deliriously ignorant of his state. An infant cried somewhere. He thanked God it wasn’t his.
He gave her options, but she remained firm. It wasn’t another man, or a woman for that matter. She could never sufficiently explain to him just how a woman feels. That despite the memories and dreams, and all his promises, that he was still a child, and she, a woman.
She’d been caged for many years now. Minnie learned to speak four languages over her first six months–the house was well-educated, father insistent his children be apt pupils. She avoided clichés, preferring seed to crackers. Over the years, her bright plumage faded into dullness, as thin bars denied hope.
He eyed the nubile girls sitting beyond the window blocking their speech from his ears. His eyes strained past parted feminine lips, landing on the dirty man behind them, who lifted an empty bottle from the table and placed it in his shopping cart. For a moment, he was desire-less.
Couples timed their lovemaking to the planets; women took herbs to retime their cycles, while men played wargames and drank aphrodisiacs, increasing their virility. When the star fell and no children were conceived, everything changed. Morning came. Everyone was gone. Epochs after, explorers wondered, speculated, theorized. They would never know.
The woman was plump, indignant in her state of carefully cultured weirdness. I couldn’t help looking at the patch of grey fur growing ambitiously from her left cheek, like a well-watered section of Arizona lawn otherwise browned by drought. I met her gaze accidentally and felt guilty for turning away.
So I’m 27 today. I feel like a horse at the starting gate, waiting for the pistol to bang. But I’m no ordinary race horse. I’m a sentient, intelligent horse, the hoof clopping, numbers crunching kind, and I know that if I fall down and break something, they’re gonna shoot me. Or worse, they’d strap [...]
She discovered the note in his jacket on route to the dry cleaners. The week before they had camped in Wautseka under the stars, made love as tendrils of night tickled their skin. They had dogs, for God’s sake! Divorce would have lasted as long as her trial. Murder one.
She was starved for attention, standing on the corner, staring at the shop window, peering at his reflection across the street. She nudged her hair back. She wanted his notice to fall on her. She wanted his youth. She whispered his name in her head, followed by thoughts of blood.
“There was a pause in time as Frank’s erratic turn of the wheel propelled him into the path of the bag-lady carting what could only be described as a black garbage bag of bent, crushed, or otherwise impacted aluminum cans, during which a vision flashed before Frank’s eyes of his mother, whom he had struck [...]