Fiction

THE LIBRARY AT NIGHT

The library is a strange place at night, I am told. Filled with odd things, apparently. I hear that the ghosts of books flit around the shelves, mixing with each other.

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DEAD CAT ON GARBAGE DAY

My legs cascading downstairs would read as a treatise between us. Nikolai, the tiny pads of Nikolai’s paws, and my own fear of direct confrontation would follow me as I took the steps down. I refused. I’d bury my grave in that bed.

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KARL

Karl looked out the window of his parents’ suburban dwelling. It was a modestly appealing August day

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