A Butterfly Tattoo_Confession Blues_The Death of Honor_A Twinkle in His Eye
Catalog Guide:
A Butterfly Tattoo
It all started with a butterfly tattoo. And I guess that started at O’Maleys. And that started with Jack, this guy I met on the hospital shuttle. He was dying. Had been dying his whole life. Just like me, I suppose, only he felt it more that day. I was meant to go to Ward 6, the Cardiology department, as I did every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. He was meant to go to Ward 11, the Oncology department, where he lived. Only, he meant to never go back. He told me this as he pulled on the loose strings poking out of the seat in front of him. They wouldn’t come, no matter how many times he ...
Confession Blues
This story contains adult themes of sexual acts.She threwww.onedoor.ccw her head back dramatically, a visual indicator to no one in the government filing cabinet attempting to pass as an office, of the game of fourth dimensional chess being played in her mind. Every question and every possible answer had been considered. They call it game theory; she read a few articles about it. Moves and countermoves. The degeneracy is way more prevalent than you'd think. Only the most skilled interrogators are able to bring it to light. Johnson got seven. Knoll's at five. Hell, even Romano got one, and he's got shit for ...
The Death of Honor
The old man Takeshi stood alone at the end of the counter in the Tachinomiya bar. He lifted his glass, dragged the water with his finger to complete the circle his beer left on the wood. The beer didn’t taste like the one he shared with what was left of his fellow soldiers at the end of World War II. It didn’t taste like the one he had after he finished building his house with his bare hands. It tasted like nothing. Because it meant nothing. As he drank, he admired the katana mounted on the wall near the entrance of the kitchen, out of which emanated a faint smell of roasted meat. The ebony sc...
A Twinkle in His Eye
Steam rose up, filtering through the drain into the cold night air. The silhouette of a man with his hands resting gently on his hips came into view. His thick winter furry collared coat turned up; his casual faded jeans looked good on his statuesque figure. His engaging smile and enthusiastic handshake felt familiar; more like meeting an old friend than a stranger for the first time. Chris had lived on the streets too long now where few people cared whether you lived or died. This generous gesture touched him deeply. There was a charisma and magnetic charm radiating all around him, finding it...