We are the last chance. The last opportunity to change our past. That sounds ambitious when you look around and everyone is still sucking their thumbs. We’ll grow younger than our parents.
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The snow is coming down erasing the city. My red hat muffling the whole world. A yellow scarf over my mouth. I must look like a stamp on a parcel. Ready…
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If this was ancient Rome, this would be a buried volcanic-ash death. Eveline and I. In our own little Pompeii. This could be how we died.
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Early morning, the world is always out of focus. Pumping in caffeine. Sip after sip. In a way, this is renewable energy. That will let you run for…
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If we were friends when we were kids, you probably received one of those phone calls. The landline phone rang, you picked up and couldn’t hear a thing…
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The delivery guy will drop forty-seven oranges and twenty-five clementines by the front door. He’ll step back a few meters and I’ll drag everything…
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My mother and her brothers, they all stay in touch with the usual phone call on Christmas making sure no one is dying or checking if anyone got married.
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There’s always a sense of relief in hospitals. No matter how miserable you are feeling, two seats away there’s always someone who looks much worse.
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Benjamin Allen's Modern Tales