I wasn’t hungry.



No, listen, it’s about work.

What work?


That damn rattling had woken me.

Just breath. The nightmare had passed.

The grey paneling of my ceiling said nothing back as I swore to it. “Bastard. Faggot. Mongoloid… Uh… fuck.” I couldn’t go on, couldn’t think.

The hour I lay in bed before going back to sleep each night was like being dead.

I couldn’t take the alternative. No more lights. I didn’t plug in anymore.

At a certain point, I had to make the choice. My body couldn’t handle the strobes in my skull.

The wires dangled in the air beside my bed. That was my last thought as I started to drift off, watching them sway in the draft of my air vent’s flow.

There was no sinking or sense of time. I never had the memories of what I dreamt, only the impressions they left of meaning.

My alarm clock started screaming at me.


The floor met my bare toes as I threw back my covers automatically. My phone was across the room, blasting cellos. I stumbled to the dresser. As I lifted it up to swipe away the noise, my thumb brushed over the cracks there. I unlocked it with the code I knew by heart and checked my text messages.

Nothing. Continue reading


You know what every person needs when they may be dying at four in the ᴀм? Spicy noodles.

Maybe that was me.

The asphalt was flowing with dark water. My eyes fixed on my feet as I ducked out into the downpour, the technicolor lights dancing in my blurred sight. Under my hood, the sound of rain on plastic filled my ears.

I knew I’d ridden the elevator to ground level, turned left on B4-2 street. My eyes barely open, I had to stumble back as my foot unexpectedly dropped. That was the road. I’d catch a face of wind kicked spray if I looked up for the signs. So, I felt my way, veering left again around the building’s corner.

The pouring suddenly stopped and I ran a hand through my hair, pushing back the hood.

Concrete was above, crossing over the road from one building to the next. Inset into the wall beside me was a vending machine. The face glowed brightly, a haze of red and orange backlighting the weather-worn menu. Under pretty pictures and aside vibrant, happy food characters, items were listed.

Something funny about this machine. Continue reading