Fiction: Just Two Minutes

Rona trudged home from the bus stop after another long day at the diner. It had been the usual crowd of morons and misfits, plus the handsy guy from Newark who kept grabbing her ass whenever she turned away; she kept turning away, though, afraid of what he might grab if she didn’t.

She walked to the front yard of her home and leaned against a tree. She wanted a smoke, but she had only one cigarette left, and she was saving it for just before she went to bed; she wanted one smoke and two minutes of peace to wrap up the typically dull, frantic, miserable day.

Rona pushed herself away from the tree and walked up the steps. She opened the door and closed and locked it behind her.

“I’m home, E.J.,” she called.

She listened for movement but heard nothing. She walked back toward the kitchen, which was dark

Continue reading “Fiction: Just Two Minutes”

Fiction: Katydid

Katydid sat on the couch and looked at the bare, boring linoleum floor. She had nothing better to do.

Mommy had been lucky enough to get a job at a diner and was gone most of the day. There was no TV, no computer to play games on, no one to play with, and only three books, all of which she’d read dozens of times. She stared at the floor, trying not to cry from sheer exasperation and misery and memory.

This isn’t real, she thought. This isn’t my life. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

Over and over again. It became her mantra as she stared at the floor and let her eyes go unfocused. She gradually gave up thinking the words and let herself fall into the belief that what she was living was not real.

Continue reading “Fiction: Katydid”