That one night in Venice changed my life.

My laptop made the e-mail noise, so I lifted the lid and the ancient Venetian hotel room filled with bright light from the display. The unread e-mail was there, smack in the middle of the screen, waiting for me to read it, enticing me with the subject line. “You won’t believe it.”

Continue reading “Unexpected”

Drifting Away

She was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking her afternoon coffee. He came into the apartment, flashed her a smile, came over, kissed her hello, they talked about how was your day it was fine, and then he sat opposite her. Got on his phone.

“I gotta log the muffin I had on the way over,” he said, “240 cals.”

She watched his quick finger, slender hands, the long sleeves of his sweatshirt covering his wrists, his arms, his chest. She felt almost tearful with happiness feeling his closeness.

“Oh, Kanye tweeted,” he chuckled, “This guy is insane.” Then he got off his phone and looked at her. “Hey, coffee is a good idea.” He got up and made himself a cup.

She watched him work in the kitchen with smooth decisive movements, like a well practiced dance. She noted all the little quirks, like the way he put two spoons of coffee in, and then just a little bit more for good measure. He then rejoined her at the counter.

“I got a kink in my neck,” he said, “Must have slept wrong.”

And after he finished his coffee:

“I’m gonna play some Xbox, okay?”

He went over to the couch and she watched him hop into place and grab the controller. She smiled and her lips touched the coffee cup. It was not hot anymore, slowly cooling to become one with the evening air outside and, eventually, all of creation.

Talking about Dreams

When she felt more confident with me, she started talking about her dreams.

“They’re really weird sometimes,” she said, “Like this one time I was in this old elementary school they turned into a hospital and then deserted after some kind of war. Only local people were using it again and I ended up in this room where they have rows of cots with babies in them. I spent some time with the babies until I realized they were not babies at all but something different.”

I nodded, signalling I was a good listener and also understood the emotions she was feeling. I stopped myself from retelling a dream I had because she did not want to hear that, she just wanted to talk. Keeping silent, I was scoring points.

“One time,” she continued, “I had a baby myself, only it turned out not to be a good baby at all and I hated it. So I left it at a bus stop.”

“Wait,” I said, “Are we still talking about dreams?”

My Friend Was Wounded

My friend was badly wounded. My friend is my phone, actually, and the display glass cracked. This would never have happened in the future!

It was innocent enough, this whole adventure. I put my friend on the night stand before going to sleep and when I woke up the next morning, the glass was cracked!

It was a tiny little crack, but it still drove me crazy. It was like a blemish on every beautiful photo on Instagram and every single page of flash fiction I read, the white background and the black typography. Why did it have to crack?!

I got some reinforced tampered gorilla glass with no-stains-or-money-back-guarantee glue. It took me seven tries to put it on. SEVEN! But I finally did it. And I put my phone in a cool-looking case, to protect it even more.

But alas! There are tiny little hairs behind the glass and I can see them. And the case makes it look chubby and ugly.