Sight

He stood with a start, eyes wide.
"A grey tunnel ... voices ... minglings ... words ... feelings ... challenge ... connection ... I see a world of so much!"
"Calm down," another said.
His breathing slowed.
"I've heard of those visions," the other said. "A near-life expirence. Forget it, it's over now."
He sat again, disappearing into his cubicle.

Nick

The waiting is the hardest part.

I took off my overshirt, pulled up my tee, unbuttoned my black slacks, and stood before him, navel bared. "You have a lovely shelf for piercing," said the perforated man. He drew a small dot on me and suddenly I felt nervous. It hurt, some, but I didn't cry. Now I am perforated too.

Violet

sharp

the leering cynicism of the old man in the fedora was wasted. he was an artist of words, though. he delivered his post-modernist blows with sour tact and a look on his face that left me reeling. his marble-smooth, marble-cool gaze went with me as i walked out, determined to resign from his victimhood.

Napkin