Category Archives: microstories

XP

“Repeat it,” Brian, the seventh-grade DM, says, holding a cigarette lighter directly under my fist.

“I can’t play until I’m 14.”

“So stop asking.” His grip releases and I shake the pinpricks from my fingertips. “Now hand it over.”

I pull a folder crammed with notebook paper from my backpack. Brian yanks out a character sheet—Xenon the Sorceror—and lights it. The ashes fall lightly on me. I try not to think of them as the remains of a friend.

Calamine

I still feel that humid night on me. Back then our apartment perched above the sidewalk like a vulture; my head perched above my heart like a parrot. Just before you wedged that stupid laundry basket you use as a suitcase out the back door, you told me to stop messing with the frays of things, and I spent I don’t know how long on the rim of the bathtub. Early, early, I wandered outside. I found one of your button-downs wadded in the yard—still wet from its vagrancy. I took off my shirt, smoothed yours on my skin like lotion.