In honor of NaNoWriMo, a serialized novella for your reading pleasure
“Cristóbal Colón _____________ America.”
The highway swung around the skyline, taking in the glitter from all sides.
Other drivers sped by her window, honking as the car swerved.
There weren’t charges against any of them but the police had fingerprinted them and started files anyway.
The melee waited for darkness
Carmen shook his head. “We have occupied ourselves.”
Outside the windows, Pennsylvania was a sea of green.
Abandon thy roommates and besties and follow me, saith the Lord.
El Paseo was timeless and placeless both.
The night smelled like standing water and spilt beer.
Zuccotti Park was Candyland, a multicolored game board governed by simple rules.
“Then sing your heart out, sugar. C’mon, that’s our cue.”
Occupy Wall Street was like a refugee camp mixed with a summer camp.
He sat on his bed and stared at the phone. Do it, he thought.
Soon the clouds would break and then he would understand.
She did not ask if there was more. She wanted to hear it all.
Ali sat forward on her seat and picked her nails and tried not to pick her nails
Ali spoke to the sharp lines of her mother’s chin.
For Ali and Wallo, being young lovers meant having sex, drinking, eating stir fry, and watching The Wire.
“So how are my students?” Ali asked.
Ritish bored a hole in his desktop with a pen.
A tiny whimper shot around the classroom.
This memory and others drifted away back down into the bowels of the Port Authority.
He wished he could dive through the plate glass and take off running.
Nuestro salvador, she’d said, our savior.
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