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The glass is so clean I can’t tell where the water starts.
Slam. Slam. Stomp. Stomp. Loud and I mean the loudest laugh you have ever heard combined with the scream of someone who is about to be murdered. Stomp. My neighbor is home. I can tell because I’ve learned how his steps sound like tunnels above my head. I hear him in silence. Stomp. He is…
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Starting at the end.
I woke up this morning with the taste of champagne still on my lips. My hands automatically searching for my phone which is surely on the brink of death. Found the phone. I open it to unread texts and a photo album from the night before. A sunset lamp, the main character of the night,…
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The sense of nothing 