36
May 24, 2017 - 94 words
Yellow light in this apartment flooding my face like a sun without heat. Can we turn down the lights? Let’s dial it back. This apartment sits at the top of a hill, no need to turn it into a lighthouse for all the pedal boats down on Echo Park Lake, making it a beacon for the homeless people down there. Where did that come from? They’re fine. I wonder how many people live in that park down there. Suddenly my roommate's words enter my brain.
“Chrissy and I discussed— oh you’re writing, I’m sorry.”