Chance of Snow_Premonition_ghost_I Know Who I Am
Catalog Guide:
Chance of Snow
Four hours into the two-hour drive between Belleville and exit 137 the ceaseless sound of rubber reverberating against miles of rocky asphalt beat against Robb’s skull. “I think the game is on.” He tuned the radio, through the static hiss until the fluid voice announcer boomed carried him back, riding alongside his father, cheering on the Spartans together.“I’m a Michigan fan,” Aaron said, pulling at the maize M embroidered on his blue hoodie. Every other weekend wasn’t enough time to keep his son from picking up on his mother’s nonsense.“Did your mother buy you that?”Aaron evened his drawstr...
Premonition
“Come in,” Scott said in response to a knockwww.onedoor.cc on his office door. He had been staring out the window of his corner office at downtown Chicago watching people go about their day. Coming in and out of shops, carrying coffee or shopping bags, sometimes both, some people were staring at their phones, some were holding hands. He wondered what their lives were like, what they did for a living, which people were tourists and which were locals.“Your lunch meeting just called to cancel.” Marie Pederson stood in his doorway filling the frame with her figure. “Guess I’ll have to buy my own lunch” Scott sa...
ghost
She is meant to kill the ghost.Her hair is already curled and her lipstick already crisp, because cinema is art and god forbid her paintbrush strays. The click of heels on the set floor matches the cadence of her even heartbeat, and her faint smile is clandestine in the shadows.Across the floor she senses the ghost move into his own position. The carefully ambient lighting colours him in warm, ephemeral shades, and his soft smile makes her fingers twitch.“I’ve never understood it,” the ghost once told her when they were sitting alone at the fringes of a film festival lavish enough to quell pov...
I Know Who I Am
Phillip Lavender eases into his chair, hoping its plush cushioning will inspire him to tear into his long-overdue review of the architectural plans for his client’s summer home.Pushing the chair closer to the computer screen, Phillip feels something scrape against his left knee. Looking underneath the desk, he sees an envelope taped to its side.Opening the envelope, he finds an undeveloped roll of film and a note. The note, from Frank McCool, reads:YOUR LIFE IS A LIE.Johnny Casio, the seventeen-year-old zit farm in charge of CVS’ Photo Department on weekends, laughs at Phillip’s roll of fil...