Fiction, Portfolio

The Old Straight Track

I walk up to the ATM and try to ignore the man babbling about lines. The first time I’d come here I thought he must be talking about drugs—coke, Adderall—perhaps he was some fearless supplicant, hoarding grimy papers in his sleeves and bartering with other local bums for a hit of reefer. But the second time I’d come he’d moved on to what sounded like polygons, the unit circle of all things, telling me that sine and cosine made one. I’d made the mistake of giving him some leftover Chinese food the first time I saw him, not realizing that my bank’s only ATM for ten miles was his haunt quotodien. When I didn’t give him anything the second time he spat at me but for some reason I can’t explain I almost felt as if I deserved it. Keep Reading…

This short story won first place and $1,000 in the Spring 2013 Wag’s Revue annual short story contest. Please visit Wag’s Revue to read the original publication.

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