Interloper
Someone’s been living beneath my bed for a while now. I don’t care why she’s there, never felt curious to bend down and look. I know her by the aroma of her perfume, the same perfume my ex-wife, Louisa, used to wear – Chanel no.5…
Brokers
You light a cigarette, sending smoke out of your lungs gently. You should be used to receiving rejection letters; still, they occupy your mind, tiring your writing. You wonder if you can ever become nonchalant…
Trap
was awaiting a bus for forty minutes under the rain. Compared to last year this spring was a hot one, but that day it was raining like hell…