Mark smells the shit before he sees it. Mrs. Friedman is naked on the beige carpet, leaning on her loveseat covered in flowered upholstery, her silver hair staining red. She is holding a dirty diaper in her hand. “What were you doing out of bed, Mrs. Friedman? Looking for a midnight snack?” “It’s none of your fucking business.”… more
Writer: Rebecca Tiger
Two Stories
FICTION by Rebecca TigerTroy’s fingers explore the tender lump on his upper right cheek. “What a night bro,” he says, looking around the train, “What a goddamn fucking night!” A young woman in the seat to his right looks up; his fidgeting has caught the corner of her eye. He smiles at her. “You’re lovely, you know?” he says. She has headphones on and cannot hear him.… more
