Make Something Up

“Obviously someone who hates you,” Devon added. Macaroni wasn’t the most flattering medium, still the picture appeared too ugly to be anything but an intentional insult.

The paper came loose, opening like a flower to reveal—something.

His job consisted of watching monitors all day and expecting people to be dishonest assholes.

It reminded her of a dunce cap, and when Miley put it on the hat swallowed her head down to her shoulders.

Devon was ready. Only the guilty party would know whom to lash out at. Everyone looked either sheepish or bereft.

Deborah wasn’t fooling anyone when she found a diamond tennis bracelet in her cubby. Only Deborah liked Deborah that much.

“Clara used to work in infant wear,” the manager explains, “selling onesies.”

To make them prove their love, he’d done something terrible. He dreaded the possibility that he might have to do something worse

the nature of happiness is that we only recognize it after the fact.