Movie Star

Sunglasses don't make the movie star, but any screen icon worthy of the name looks damn good in them. Rutherford Love knew this for a fact and was no exception.

He glided through the airport hidden from prying eyes. All the ordinary people passed by never realizing how close to greatness they were, stroked by the soft brush of fame. As long as the polycarbonate lenses covered his piercing blue eyes, he could travel completely incognito.

He didn't understand the physics behind their power, but there was no denying he was completely invisible.

"Mr. Love, can I get a selfie?"

Platero And I: Smoke-Dry

There is El Boncalo, Platero. It is too late now to turn around without insulting him.

Look, that eternal hand-rolled cigarette is dangling from his lower lip again. It just smells awful.

Whenever I see him, I think of the time when I was a young man and thought I could impress the girls coming out of the sewing workshop in Calle de la Escula by lighting a cigarette with an American lighter, just like a movie star.

What a fool I was back then, Platero.

Frankly, I don't miss smoking, much like some other things aging makes superfluous.

Apparently.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Of Two Minds

He begged her to come back and now he’s watching her unpack her suitcase. He knows that she isn’t going to stay. She’s the sort of woman who never stays. She’s the sort of woman who has a purple hairdryer, peach-scented lotion, and coconut shampoo. Who does she think she is? A movie star? Her underpants are black, red, green, and blue, because she’s fickle. She can’t choose just one color. Everything in the suitcase is evidence of her inconstancy. A pair of roller skates is the last straw. This is insanity, he thinks. I will tell her to leave.

From Guest Contributor Alice Brigance