Binge Inker

I listen to Chopin and pass out under a Jackson Pollock and dream about writing. I am cultivating something in this room, but I cannot say or know what.

17.10.06

55 Fiction

A story in exactly 55 words - Flash fiction - Etc.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Big Apple

Adam does not feel the woman’s eyes upon him. As he sprints towards the mercurial railcar, whose great engine begins to wind, all he can feel are the planks of the platform beneath him, rumbling like distant thunder.
The woman presses her face against the cold plexiglass, exhales, and Adam fades into the tainted distance.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Website Counter