The noose chuckled at its joke. It was the sound of dry sun and sawdust. Harry Fielding groaned.
"Be quiet," he said.
He wanted to reach up and shake the voices from his head. Watch as they fell, one by one, to the grass. First, his friends. Then the unforgiving stares of his parents, the hurried whispers of co-workers. Finally, his wife. Her daisy coloured dress flying up to obscure her face as she fell, revealing pink underwear.
The noose was not the only thing in his mind.the noose
"You can't fake heroin withdrawal," she said. "It's a bit more than red eyes and itchy fingers."
"I quit smoking. How hard can it be?"
He'd been buying from Brightsides almost eight years now. She wheeled the streets with a backpack stuffed with pot and speed and MDMA and the occasional downer for when he needed to be especially morose. She'd once sold him a double-hit of LSD that he tongued while touring the Detroit Sweeps. That was killer; Sylvia had called him a "post-societal neo-anarchic hero," and squirreled into his bed not once but twice, as if his neo-anarchic power would spread to her via shared fluids.the king
“Hey, do you think we should put little people in there?”
“People? Like, models?”
“I don’t know. Little gnomes or something.”
“That’s a bit creepy. Not to mention tacky. Really?”
“I guess not,” she said, placing the bowl back down on the shelf. “You’re right. I just like having the green around.”the terrarium