Sunday Stories: “CUNT”

mailboxes

CUNT
by Sylvia Math

I didn’t have very much to do with boys my own age, when I was 14-16,  before I left home, but there were two.  Both very nice.  Nice Boy #1 was also sexy.  He was tall and he had just the right slouch.   There was absolutely nothing rebellious about anything he ever said or did.  But you could feel it simmering. When I saw him again later when we were both in different colleges, of course he had green hair, eyeliner and a Flipper  tee shirt (the one with the x’s on the fish’s eyes.)  It was dull to hang out with him when we were 15 though.  

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Sunday Stories: “Honey Murder”

Door

Honey Murder
by Sylvia Math

I could tell he thought I was younger than I was, and so when he got that adorable predatory look men get, when he started to strategize, I accepted it as a challenge. I was going to draw it out, take him on a wild ride called “I’m Not An Ingenue.” But I made such a good honey- tractioned trap that I got stuck in it too.

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Sunday Stories: “Temporary”

Projector

Temporary
by Sylvia Math

What was strange about how I met him wasn’t just that it was unusual  in and of itself, but also that of all the many ways we might have met, that was how it happened.  We knew people in common.  We went to the same parties and events.  We had likely seen each other before; it seemed impossible that we had not.  Except that I always seem to attract notice so probably not. He would have remembered.  I have some weird quality of presence and stick out and people notice and remember me; I never get away with anything. There’s always a witness. But it was possible, we decided, that we were in dark readings at KGB bar a bunch of times together, where it’s too dark & crowded to make or receive an impression. That was the most likely explanation. We had to talk about it; rifle through the possibilities, worry the subject. There’s always something a little uncanny & compelling about meeting someone who for sure you should have already met; a sneaking suspicion that you passed by each other; that photos of this or that event you were at would depict the other one of you in the background, undetected…yet.  There all along.

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