Fiction – Issue 9

They were saying that they were all gonna move after this, bad fengshui and all, but they never did. . .

There was only an irregular rise and fall visible in the middle of that pile of winter jackets, socks over pant hems, ripped fabric. . .

There was only a wrist-sized space between the beds, and if Ovrid reached, he could touch Devrom’s shoulder. . .