Sunny_Two Men in a Van_No Returns_Lapse in Control
Catalog Guide:
Sunny
Her name couldn’t have been more befitting of her disposition. It was as if the gods had convened and prophetically chosen it for her. In truth, however, she was unintentionally christened when her mother, thoroughly drained after thirty-eight hours of labor, simply looked out her hospital room window and muttered, “It’s sunny.” A nurse who’d been attempting to complete a birth certificate for more than twenty minutes assumed this was the answer to the question she’d already asked three times, to no avail, and proceeded to write it down. It was official. The baby girl would be called Sunny.Sun...
Two Men in a Van
Two Men in a Van“Hey man, we’re cool, you can come out now, we’re over the border. I’m going to pull into a transport café about 20 kilometers from here.” Sandy slowed as Mustapha climbed over the back seat into the front of the van. He said nothing but turned quizzically towards Sandy as the van pulled into the motorway parking lot. “Don’t worry, we’re going to order coffees, then take a shower and get inwww.onedoor.ccto our disguises. C’mon, we’re going to hit gay Paree dressed as painters. The worst part is over.” He could feel the other man stiffen, wary. “This is a place for transport drivers, they can...
No Returns
Clearing the leftover Valentine’s Day chocolates off the shelves, and changing the store merchandise, I’m glad to be back to the normal workflow. Finally, there aren't panicked customers trying to buy the perfect gift in a rush, unprepared despite the fact there is only one day in the entire year when you should tell your lover that you love them; by spending a quid or a few grand. I say it’s bullshit, but maybe that’s the reason why I am still single: I’m not exactly the romantic type, not on Valentine’s, nor on any other day of the year, always keeping at arm’s length the cheesy I-love-yous....
Lapse in Control
The steady tapping of the keyboard was the constant companion to my ears these days. When I dare to take a second’s respite, even the muted sound broke through the thick, material booth that was meant to segregate us all from each other. No communication, no chance for discontent; take the cards you were dealt and keep your head down. This was the way they wanted us. Docile. Hopeless. The perfect workers to fuel the idea of a perfect empire. Since countries around the world had decided that enough was enough, that the constant protests and disruption didn’t actually need to be tolerated, life ...