Ophelia Persisted

“Pull off it. Like a sweater!”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Like a sweater. Pull! Off! It!”

“Are you having a stroke or something?”

She glared at him, vibrating with rage, and pushed the sleeves of her washed-out taupe cardigan up over her elbows and planted her feet.

He sighed, slid his glasses up his nose. “I have no frikkin’ clue,” he grunted.

It was then that he noticed the linoleum and cinder-black dayroom was empty. Continue reading “Ophelia Persisted”

The Watcher


buttJoseph leaned against the hardware store’s outside wall, impatiently tapping his fingers.  Its surface was cool in the shade of what promised to be another scorcher. He drew on his cigarette, then used the same hand to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His fingers trembled and the ash dropped to the dirty sidewalk.
Continue reading “The Watcher”