By G.J. Hart
Nothing had changed: the penpot, the stapler, the stained mug, the chair that squeaked each time he moved and the argument still ringing over and over and all over nothing and the lights still red, the road still empty, his sandwiches wrapped and boxed and no sound, barely any movement – one wheel squeaking, a freak shower, so much blood, so many colors, and his boss looming – the quarterlies – not even late – and blue lights across the beige wall, across the the flipboard and should he buy dinner, should he buy flowers, should he apologize, should he, should he, should he?
GJ Hart currently lives and works in London and has had stories published in The Molotov Cocktail, The Jersey Devil Press, the Harpoon Review and others.
2 thoughts on “Should He”
Does she really want that?