Three elderly men are at the doctor for a memory test.
The doctor says to the first man, “What is three times three?”
“274″ was his reply.
The doctor says to the second man, “It’s your turn.”
What is three times three?” “Tuesday,” replies the second man.
The doctor says to the third man, “Okay, your turn. What’s three times three?”
“Nine,” says the third man.
“That’s great!” says the doctor. “How did you get that?”
“Simple,” says the third man. “I subtracted 274 from Tuesday.”
He said it like a wound. Like the word itself had teeth. “Fire.” It stuck in my throat, in my clothes, in the spaces between us that…
Your veins don’t change for nothing. One day they’re barely there; the next, they’re bright ropes under your skin, pulsing after a shower, after a sprint, after…
Some stars don’t fade. They choose to disappear. She walked away at the height of her power, when every door was open and every camera was waiting….
You felt holy, then emptied. The kind of hollow that makes silence roar and every unread message feel like a sentence passed. You gave pieces of yourself…
You think your home is safe. You lock the door, pull it shut, and walk away, certain that nothing inside will move without you. But something does….
They wait for you in silence. Every morning, every night, they’re the first thing that touches your bare, vulnerable skin. One feels like a hotel dream, another…