William Allen
by Ryan Sartor

I got a job as a custodian because I thought it would be a good occupation for an aspiring writer. I had gone to film school, but soon realized I didn’t understand cameras or where to put them, so I decided I would write fiction: novels and short stories. 

I knew that I needed to acquire two things: life experience and a job that provided me with a room, outside of my apartment, in which I could write. I thought to sign up for a co-working space, but I got anxious imagining the other members. Would they also be writers? Would they stop me while I was working and ask questions about my personal life? Would I tell them that I didn’t want to talk, be labeled “difficult,” try to get back my deposit, and find out it was too late because I’d locked myself into a six-month agreement? 

Allentown
by Ryan Sartor

I’d been sleeping with two women, both named Claire. Well, just one woman, really. Claire P. was the one I had sex with. Claire M. slept over, but we just kissed. My roommate, Randall, hated the situation. 

“You’ve been seeing both of them for close to a year,” he said. “There has to be an assumption of monogamy.”

“Why would anyone assume that?”