Ties That Bind

Sam always used rubber bands to hold up her ponytail; I'm still finding them around the apartment, lost during sex, or when she shook out her hair after a long day at work, or in any of a dozen different ways. The trust between us proved less elastic, and snapped.

Everything came undone when she found that bobby pin in the bathroom. I told her that Jodie had just needed to wash bird crap out of her hair when she dropped by, but clearly I wasn't believed. Now, in every sense, there's no way left to hold things in place.From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar

Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His work can be found at https://linktr.ee/alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.

On The Floor

Marty was a penny stock trader back in the 80s. A breathtaking collection of liars and cheats, everyone doing blow. Stock exchange officials were bribed. Client accounts were bled. It was something to behold.

His supposedly statelier sales manager was all smiles but for the dead shark eyes. He would say, "If people want yellow ties, sell them goddamn yellow ties."

Once or twice a month, after market hours, Marty would go out and stick up random banks, his rickety scheme to salvage honour.

His profession was put early to the silicon sword. Mercifully, Marty never saw the party end.

From Guest Contributor Kevin Campbell

Kevin writes in Vancouver, Canada.