Written Florida

The hospital counter balanced the consequences of Chloe’s belief in radiological.

“Poise Samuel. It’s dosage and daydreaming. Don’t slam this shut, there’s no ambush in it.”

Samuel’s reptilian wheelchair spontaneously defended his ego with a damp pelvis moan.

“You need to explore your obsession with maintaining haste.”

And then Chloe was behind him, creating an exit.

Outside the gravity of habit drew dated windows and naked brick into Samuel’s response.

“Chloe, you are the answer to a whistle.”

Her blouse threw out naked holes of laughter until the urban inside her tongue finished the joke.

“But you have no teeth.”

From Guest Contributor Geoffrey Miller

Depression

The doctor was explaining how behavioral changes are just as likely to cure my depression as drugs.

“Has it occurred to you doctor, that I ought to be depressed, because I'm living a meaningless life?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t going to say it.” Then he saw I wasn’t joking.

“The truth is, I feel just about right for my situation,” I said.

“I don’t tell people how they ought to feel. If they come here, it’s because they think there’s something wrong.”

I didn’t reply.

“So you want me to increase your dosage then?”

It was easier to say yes.

From Guest Contributor Thomas Vicinanzo