biovignette

anthony

Antony cannot move half of his body. Except for this one “attitude shrug” in his right arm that even his physiology cannot eradicate, he hunches over in the spot they place him in. Continue reading

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fiction

rita

Rita does not smile. Not once, not even accidentally. Her dumpling body, poured into a Good Charlotte tee-shirt, moves catlike around the swivel chair as she brandishes shears above my head. Under the pressure of her tattooed fingers, I twirl twirl twirl in the chair, and suddenly, brown block bangs have been chopped to my brows. Continue reading

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