Love
Slave to the Rhythm
At first, he would only go dancing with packs of people, usually co-workers at the restaurant after their shift ended, but after a few trips he felt confident enough to dance by himself. It was actually a relief to go solo, he soon discovered, for he didn’t like the ironic way most of the pack would dance, all clumped up on the floor, the straight cooks uneasily staring at the gay men in the club while conspicuously dancing with (and only with) the waitresses. He also didn’t like the way everyone deferred to the lone gay waiter who traveled with them, either, treating the poor guy like some cicerone who could explain the hidden codes and rules of the gay dance club that the straight people were cheerfully resigned to never decipher.
By Christopher Lincoln5 years ago in Fiction
Vermouth Verde
Ten minutes before opening time, Marek cautiously turned the nozzle for the main lights slightly to the right and looked over the now dimmed Vermouth Verde. He would, as always, wonder if there had been one singular person in charge of the bar’s aesthetic.
By houseofclouds5 years ago in Fiction
Five
She walked down a crowded street wearing a short white dress, finding her way through. She took every step in her heels with integrity and purpose up to the corner and the light flashed red. Wind blew her hair in her face, blocking the view of the street. It took just a moment for her to tame her hair and when she did that's when she saw him. He was wearing jeans and a button up shirt, just like the one he had on 5 years ago. If there was a moment she could remember clearly was the last look he gave her when she last saw him. Full of love and longing, just shy of enough to hold onto as they had said their goodbyes. And just as in that moment her breath left her body and she couldn’t think. He was staring off to the side, not yet taking notice of her. His hair was darker than she remembered, faded from the sun bleached hair he once had.
By Gabriella Cruz5 years ago in Fiction
An Embarrassment
The first time Randy Banks got lucky in his car it left an indelible imprint. It lingered there on the ceiling and proved a constant embarrassment to him. You could look at it and tell right away what had happened. It was worse when you were in the passenger seat because then you had the uncomfortable knowledge it had happened right where you were sitting.
By Gregg Newby5 years ago in Fiction
A New Driver's Guide to Heartbreak
Step one: find a companion to drive with you. At first it will seem as though they’re just driving you places. Worry not, you’re learning from them. You’re watching their every move. You know the exact curvature of their eyelashes. You do not know the name of the street opposite your house. Worry not, you’re learning.
By Addison J Fulton5 years ago in Fiction
Break Away
The spotlights dimmed and the ring of the amplified instruments died. Lightning jumped off the side of the small stage and walked back to the converted bathroom that served as their dressing room for the night’s performance. He was bathed in sweat, his clothes stuck to him as if he’d been in a rainstorm.
By L. Lane Bailey5 years ago in Fiction
