Fiction
We traded memories through the night, starting with branches of personal history and working backward until we reached the primeval muck that fuels a life.
They say evolution occurs most rapidly in body parts that attract lovers and frighten rivals.
Maps of the Arctic give me vertigo. All that blank bright land feels like leaping off a rooftop.
Cut to commercial, and I hum along with a jingle for a machine that controls your brainwaves while you sleep.
Maybe you’ve heard the stories, the baroque theories on late-night radio or the soliloquies of sunburnt men who mutter at the traffic.
