He sends her a story, something he wrote almost a year ago to her, for her, because of her. He asked her the same question recently, after 3 months of silence, and after 9 months since last seeing her. “Is there anything else you would love for me to bring you?” I ask …
I spotted the speeding car too late while holding the sodden, brown cardboard over me, my hair damp and flat against my head as the rain poured down from the black, angry sky. “Fuck!” I shouted as the water from a giant puddle in the gutter splashed over me as a Suzuki Jimny sped …
She arrives early at the wharf to take photographs, explore before the yacht departs. She doesn’t enjoy the sickness the open ocean inflicts upon her stomach but thinks, what the hell, it’s free, and how rough could it possibly get on a still, stunningly sunny day such as this. As she places the camera’s …