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Our Heroine takes the shortcut behind the Taco Hole, ignoring its beefy bouquet.
she bolts from her house-not-a-home, jogs a half mile to the bus stop, and catches a metro line to the Jackson Greyhound terminal.
I say nothing. My quota for conversations with a stranger has officially been met. For the decade.
LABOUR DAY SPECIAL FOUR $DOLLAR-FIFTY GENERAL TSO CHICKEN WHY U PAY MORE? DROP BY! WE FAMOUS!
Either way, you should write. It’s better than succumbing to the madness of the world.”
This mutant word, a tragic portmanteau, the unnatural marriage of two roots as different as different could be. And do you, Ability, take Vitriol to be your lawfully wedded suffix?
I am a collection of oddities, a circus of neurons and electrons: my heart is the ringmaster, my soul is the trapeze artist, and the world is my audience. It sounds strange because it is, and it is, because I am strange.
a place where “anything might have happened even if nothing ever did.”
People just can’t help themselves when it comes to quotation marks. As if they’re completely paralyzed by this particular punctuation. I guess it’s really not that big of a deal, but it does seem to be a widespread brand of easily avoidable buffoonery.
Alas, I was eleven, and he was devastatingly male—my hands were tied.
