Bathroom Tile

‘Once upon a time someone tried to imitate marble with porcelain.

Understandable; humans have been artificially recreating nature since the cavemen. It’s our nature to synthesize.’

Arnold stood in the bathroom of his newly rented apartment, pondering its cladding.

A 12x12 tile covered the floor and all four walls. The same pink-veined beige tile, repeated 286 times.

‘But this imitation fails instantly due to the repetition. Nothing could be less realistic.’

He felt he’d been given insight into an anonymous tile designer’s mindset. He didn’t know how to interpret it, but he had a year-long lease to mull it over.

From Guest Contributor Olivia Rerick

End Of The Line

Grace ran her finger over the word.

TERMINATED

She over-pronounced each syllable. The word crashed off her computer’s screen. The “t” chipped the floor with its hook. The “e” cracked the tile, and the rest of the letters tumbled into the void.

“Didn’t tell me in person.” The night beacon, bedroom clock blinked 11:15.

In her unkempt kitchen, she knelt beside the sink. Ants crawled, a living chain of perfect order. They bypassed her bait. Scouts explored on. Workers followed trails through the cracks. But in the hive, the queen risked nothing.

Life balanced on the pinhole of a hilltop.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier