Wednesday, June 19, 2013


Seen on the Orange Line to Midway at about 8:30 a.m.

His black sunglasses and his black suit don’t quietly ask for privacy; they snarl for anonymity. This is the type of man who keeps his money stuffed under a mattress, the type of man who doesn’t own a computer or a cell phone. If he were registered to vote, he’d be an ardent Libertarian—but of course, he doesn’t register for anything. This man uses force to avoid the needle-sticks of the weary phlebotomist. His DNA belongs to him alone. His presence on the train is disconcerting, for he has made every effort to revoke his membership in society. He is barely human.

Sorry about the delay in stories this week. Aside from Friday, which was a lovely day, my weekend was kind of horrible and required some recovery time. I don't wanna talk about it. Actually, I'm counting my blessings--it all could have been much worse. Anyway, should be back to regular posting now. 

By the way, the third story is up on All Together Now--Leta's this time. And now the cycle renews itself! I'm excited about this project. 

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