When I had left Los Angeles in the early morning, the sun had barely risen, but it didn’t take long until the light was so blinding, it was like driving through a storm, but this time, it was the sunlight shielding everything - making the sleeping homeless and trash laden streets disappear - replacing everything - hiding the grotesque.
Priscilla was sitting next to me, silent, like a watch dog, waiting. The I-5 north was empty in the early morning due to the fact that it was a Saturday. This weekend was the only weekend I could make this trip. The weekend before I started my new job. I was switching careers from graphic designer to accountant. Boring, I know, but Priscilla was always saying, “follow your heart, Neilia.” My heart was in counting and because my father wanted me to finally join the company.
“Remember when we kissed at that truck stop in Delano?” Priscilla asked.
“Yeah, I remember,” I said, my fingers drumming against the steering wheel as we listened so some Beatles song.
“Remember when you asked me to marry you?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
It was around ten when I finally stopped at that truck stop to have breakfast.
“Remember all those looks we got when we kissed right here in this booth? Jesus, I actually feared for my life that day,” Priscilla said as I ate my greasy breakfast sandwich.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“And remember when you held my hand afterward? Hey...I wish you hadn’t cut your hair.”
I had cut ten inches off of it just a few weeks ago. I needed something new. I was tired of looking at myself in the mirror - in the reflective glass of stores as I walked...
Mike’s penis turned into a pickle on Monday.
He got up for his morning piss, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and using the other to pull out his dick from his grey...
She used to know her way home. The brick house at the top of the hill. Neighbors would gaze up at it, wondering about its inhabitants. She would gaze back, longing for a world...