29 Langwood Street
The first time I saw her, I almost tripped over my feet and introduced my nose to the pavement. Not because she was beautiful–who could tell from the back of her head like that?–but because she occupied my bench. My bench. I glanced down the esplanade toward the seasonal businesses where the heady aroma of corn dogs and popcorn saturated the early summer breeze and enticed evening strollers to the waterfront. Plenty of benches sat empty there. No one had ever wanted to exchange the excitement of carnival rides and arcade games for the view of a bridge and some birds. No one except me. I get my fill of people at work every day. Moments of solitude on my bench are golden. Read more …
Dancing Man
I first saw him dancing outside the diner.
Elbows out, coat flapping in the winter wind, arms wide in invitation, his dazzling smile lit up the night. Shoppers on the busy avenue flowed around his gyrations like leaves skirting a whirlpool’s suction, diverted from their paths the bare minimum required to avoid eye contact or, heaven forbid, conversation with a lunatic. Dancing Man never noticed. His exuberance repelled the sting of apathy. Read more…
Endless Potential
They always find me.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my profession. But it’d be nice to have an occasional drink in peace. Disguises don’t help. My skin is brown this time, my eyes grey like my hair. Still, he knows me.
He sits on the next barstool, orders a beer. Read more…
Home Sweet Home
I’ve had it with Eric. He’s pushed my last button. Twisted my last lock. Slammed my last door. His praise overflowed when he first bought me. “Look at my beautiful condo!” he tweeted, posting photos on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr while I held a steady internet connection so he wouldn’t have to repost later. I thought it was love at first sight for him, like it was for me. Read more…
Late December
I open my eyes to confusion and burning discomfort. Carpet stretches from my nose to the shelving unit, fuzzy without my glasses. All my furniture slants at an unexpected ninety-degree angle. What in the…
A silvertone bar juts into the edge of my view. Oh. That. My aluminum walker. The one that sticks when it should slide and slides when it should stick. Lina warned me to get one with wheels and hand brakes. I’ll never hear the end of it when she finds me.
Again. Read more…
Upshot
My first arrow slices the air in silent uphill flight to pierce my target’s throat, and I nock another shaft. Wet gurgling sounds fill the space between us. His upraised hands flutter like a naavi’ at his wound, but my tip paste works fast. He staggers, turns, falls before he spies his killer. I walk toward him, ready to loose if he twitches. When I am close enough, I can see he won’t move again.
A bird thrashes in the net above my head. This one’s a male, its frantic calls lost in the sound of my own coughing. I shoulder the bow and pull my knife, then step onto the body to reach the net. Greedy bastards. We could not stop the soldiers when they burned our villages, butchered our animals, stole our land, enslaved or killed our people. Now thieves come for our beautiful quetzals or their feathers. Enough. This I can fight. Read more…