Anti-Epiphanies_A Letter From Me_The Cold Room_The Hobbies I Met
Catalog Guide:
Anti-Epiphanies
Outside it was snowing. The tops of the cars just barely peaked out of the snowdrift encasing their doors, faintly lit by the orange streetlights, half-obscured by the foggy windows of the office building, the one on the 5th floor. It was too late to bother checking www.onedoor.ccthe time, an action rendered unnecessary by the yawns and groans of the two stragglers who’d unwittingly chosen to spend the night. The quiet was punctured by light cursing from one, no doubt frantically scrolling through the News app illuminating his face like some 21st century ghost. Highway 4-0-something was shut down, telepho...
A Letter From Me
Your Excellency,I have been living in this monastery for 18 years. The brothers have been good to me. I think that I must be around 50 years old. I wandered onto the lands of the monastery, and was allowed to stay. I find that I like a life of contemplation and work making the beer for which the monastery is renowned and which allows us to be left alone in the main. I don’t want to think much, and it is not required of me. I get up for the canonical hours and recite prayers and chant songs in Latin. I learned these by repetition, by hearing them over and over again, until I knew the syllables ...
The Cold Room
Cathy lived alone. The house was much too big for her, and much too empty, but it suited her purposes. There was a cold room in the basement, which she considered to be of the utmost necessity. Her father had left the house to her when he died. She was his only child, his only family, for that matter. Cathy’s mother had died before Cathy had known her, or before she could form memories, anyway. Cathy was twenty-one years old when her father passed. She was twenty-three now. Her father had loved her more than anything in the world.Cathy was a desairologist. That meant she cut the hair and nails...
The Hobbies I Met
When I met Tom, a blonde tall God, I decided it would be a good idea to start rollerblading. After all, he loved it and kept inviting me to go with him.We used to go to the park and spend hours getting our knees skinned, and I even got the occasional twisted ankle. Tom would make me sit on the couch, grab a warm compress and keep it on my foot, asking over and over again, “Are you feeling better, sweetie?”Then, as the weeks went by, I noticed how he stopped having time to join me. No matter how much I altered my schedule, he never seemed to have the time to be there.I would sit at a bench and ...