It’s Him

Jeff got drunk after she told him, “It's not you. It’s me.”

But Jeff knew it was him. It always was.

He got so whiskey drunk that he woke the next afternoon tasting chalk. He couldn’t remember downing all those pills, but he must have because the bottle was half empty. Not half full—definitely half empty.

He spent three minutes on the help hotline he found on the internet.

“Dude,” the counselor said, “maybe it really wasn't you.” That’s when Jeff hung up. Probably just some college kid volunteering for a class project.

Jeff would survive. He always did.

From Guest Contributor John Sheirer

John lives in Western Massachusetts and is in his 30th year of teaching at Asnuntuck Community College in Northern Connecticut where he edits Freshwater Literary Journal (submission welcome). His work has appeared recently in Wilderness House Literary Review, Meat for Tea, Poppy Road Review, Synkroniciti, Otherwise Engaged, 10 By 10 Flash Fiction, The Journal of Radical Wonder, Scribes*MICRO*Fiction, and Goldenrod Review. His latest book is Stumbling Through Adulthood: Linked Stories. Find him at JohnSheirer.com.

The Machiavellian Necessities Of A Woman On The New York City Subway

For the majority of Deb's daily commutes, she preoccupied herself with the most strategic seat location choice. She normally picked the open space closest to the door. She didn't like standing, when it felt like every male gaze pointed her way, or looking for less populated corners, where some old dude would inevitably decide it was cool to plop their sweaty ass right next to her or, sometimes worse, directly across from her.

Being near the exit provided the comfort of knowing she could quickly escape at any stop, should it ever become necessary.

This necessity was a weekly occurrence.

Gravity

A panhandler with the woeful face of a Christian martyr in a medieval painting stops me outside the discount liquor store. He says he needs two more bucks to get a bottle. Marlene, he adds as if I know her, is resting with a beer and the dude that shot her whose nickname is Rabbit. Has anyone asked us how we see things? No! We’re all on the road. But now it’s really getting fun. I dig some change out of my pocket. There are only so many opportunities to take maximum advantage of gravity’s pull on people and objects.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good