Woketimes Issue 1.0

Mario Castro
Jul 27, 2017 · 2 min read

After packing all my things in the Uhaul van and driving down twenty-something hours, I pull up in front of the house in the middle of the night and find my new roommate drunk on the porch steps, sliding off them like they had grease on them. As I’m bringing the window down, he’s yelling at me, “Ah, what’d you forget, you son of a bitch! I told you not to come back here.” I get out of the van speechless I’m so confused. Bosch holds a bottle by the neck and drawls, “Hey, you’re not Gary.” I tell him I’m his new roommate, Hendrick, my voice full of New York. He says, “Shit, come on in, man. You want a beer?”

Bosch tells me to pull into the driveway. He’s wearing a blue sweater zipped up down the middle. Not even letting me unpack, we go to a bar and I have to buy him his drinks because he can’t remember where he left his wallet. When I tell him I do freelance photography he laughs at me. I don’t tell him about my plans to live in Mars. Shit I’m so tired, I black out and wake up on Bosch’s couch, remembering him saying to me, “You gotta watch out for the kids. A lot of the time they’re carrying guns and trying to rob you.”

Woketimes

Serial on photographer living in New Orleans. ❤️M A R S

Mario Castro

Written by

Creative writer. “The Inflation of Mythos” is out now on amazon: https://goo.gl/uCpTKq

Woketimes

Woketimes

Serial on photographer living in New Orleans. ❤️M A R S

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