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In truth, I liked him for using me. I liked him for being a tool. The cashier at his local bodega knew him better than I did. I couldn’t explain why, but his cruelty felt cozy. It felt good in the way of pressing down on a bruise, morbid curiosity meets bored masochism. My friends were operating un…

Later, as she slept, I got out of bed to let the dogs out. I sat on the doorstep and watched them scuttle about, pissing single-file and digging up the flower beds. What a beautiful term, flower beds. I felt peaceful and sore. It seemed to me then, in my floaty postcoital daze, that the number one …

When we kissed, it was anticlimactic. We had been sharing a bed for almost two weeks; all signs pointed to sex. I let my loneliness propel me. She was feeling deep feelings and I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted her halo to warm me, her belly to bounce off. So I lifted my shirt. Her body was so…

That was how I found myself sitting opposite Emeline in a greasy red booth, both of us shivering under the diner’s fluorescent lights. As with most 24/7 establishments, the Silvercrest was home to a rotating cast of chatty winos, junkies in sandals, and insomniacs pondering their fifth cup of joe. …

I pick through my handful and give him my blues. Dino gives me his reds. When we kiss, our tongues turn purple.

This is a memory I cherish. I carry it with me like a pocketknife. I carry it with me like a postcard that I need to send but I don’t have any stamps.