Sublime

settled his hat on his head and went out. He stopped and lingered on the top step. His thoughts were disordered and strange to him. He was appallingly jealous; it was like a heavy round stone had lodged in the center of his chest, but he could not have said for sure whether he was jealous of Joe or of Rosa Luxemburg Saks. At the same time, he was g

Your story

Once it was a young girl who entered the kitchen suddenly in a gust of wind, pale, thin, and strange, like a stray thought.

The candle aimed its spear of light at heaven, like an artist who consumes himself to become divine.

So it goes.

So it goes.

fingers. The

“I’ll want to hear,” Samuel said. “I eat stories like grapes.”

Jerry Crosby was looking out a window at the immaculate green yard, where a lawn worker’s leaf blower had caught fire. The worker calmly heaved it in the swimming pool and ambled away.