“What happened to your arm?” I ask. He mutters something indecipherable. I don’t bug him about it. A big bump on his forearm where he missed his mark, too lazy to belt it up, I reckon. “What’d you do last night?” I ask. “Methadone,” he says, “And cocaine.”
I stepped into the humid night air looking for the white SUV. I had a romantic sex filled night waiting for me in that
Two Flash Fiction Pieces From Jelena Vencl Ohlrogge Metamorphoses Jeff was looking at a tiny cockroach in his living room. The cockroach was looking back at Jeff with its Parisian blue eyes. Jeff thought he was dreaming, because roaches do not have blue eyes. Or, do they? Jeff was trying to fill his blank thoughts … Continue reading Fiction#Feb/Mar/10
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