There are things I have built into me, things I can’t quite explain. I can be just as specific by calling these things “stuff”, but that somehow makes it sound gross. “There’s stuff inside me.”
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Dusk settled on the Northern California horizon. It was the first day of August. Mercury was no longer in retrograde, and it was Desdemona’s birthday. It had been a good day too. Her coworkers had brought cupcakes into work, all her writer pals had made sure to wish her a happy birthday, and she had a special dinner planned with
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Can you spot the difference between someone trolling you and someone giving constructive and creative criticism?
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Romance isn’t dead, but it’s ten seconds till midnight. Its breathing its last, wheezing breath as its heart monitor shows the start of the straight line, its steady, repetitive beeping turning to one long, familiar tone.
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Daniel Aegan 