[Fiction] Love Letters to Myself, Part One

Landslide was playing on mama’s old radio while Jimmy smashed two popsicle sticks with drawn on faces together.  Smack, smack, smacked together like a little popsicle orgy.  I watched from the back steps with my wad of gum between my lips and a soggy magazine strewn over my sweaty thigh.

“She has a creepy voice,” Jimmy crooned his neck back and scowled at the little wooden box.

“It’s Stevie Nicks,” as a matter of fact.  He looked over with eyes asking if that was supposed to make him care, so he went back to his smacking.


Blurb from Spring 2015


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Indigo is a writer living out of Seattle. She plays a lot of video games.

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