Stories
You say it hurts I say. You say again I say. Underneath spills out are we drowning you say no. You say swim I say fix the fucking leak you say don’t leave the shore I say stop bringing the ocean you say.
— from “February,” published in deathcap issue one
Nobody could piss off Emily’s lips quite like Iwan. Betrayal will do that to a body, and Emily’s body held grudges her heart could never keep up with. The lips had gathered a small notepad and pen and were beginning to write their list when Iwan strutted up to the cubicle entrance.
— From “Betrayal will do that to a body,” published in Canthius issue three
They said I violated the dress code and it’s him it’s him with his mismatching socks and his beard I miss him but he’s ruining my life he’s dead and still ruining everything. He’s dead. Of course, the fire.
— From “It Started with the Socks,” published in Canthius issue three
I’m talking about how towers and the weather make people like us feel soggy sometimes. With bare legs and wet shoulders and arms full of potential purchased on credit like borrowing a dream for a second just to see where it takes you, being in someone else’s fog instead of yours—and then discovering that fog is fog is fog, just as a rose is a rose is a rose