“read in the privacy of one’s study.” By Julia at her desk


Monday, July 6, 2015
1:01am
5 minutes
“What is creative nonfiction?”
Wayne Grady


I have locked myself in Martin’s study where Tizz won’t think to look for me. He hates confined spaces and Martin’s study is exactly that. It looks like a secret hideout, converted from a closet. I think that’s actually what it was before it became Martin’s study. I think Martin likes to pretend that this house came with a room specifically for him. He likes a place to put his papers and his legal documents. He doesn’t study in here. He doesn’t even read. He just likes to have a place that people associate with power and mystique. Well now I’m in Martin’s study executing my mystique and power. I alone know where I am and Tizz won’t have a clue. I had to read the letter without the chance of Tizz finding me. I’m only a good liar until I get caught and Tizz has always been an investigator. Should have joined the police force but they just couldn’t take someone with the severity of Tizz’s brain injury. I think they called him a liability. So he might not have a badge but he knows how to keep me in line.

“read in the privacy of one’s study.” By Sasha on her porch


Monday, July 6, 2015
6:23pm
5 minutes
“What is creative nonfiction?”
By Wayne Grady


Pauline watches me in my study.
I think I’m alone and then I realize that, nope, she’s right damn there.
Not sure what to do with her ashes.
Dead in January, the ground’s frozen. Not a good time to do something like burying.

“I never made it to the Eiffel Tower,” she said, the morphine changing her eyes from blue to grey.
“I know, I know,” I said, rubbing an ice cube on her chapped lips.

It’s the longest trip I’ve ever taken.
Only been to Montreal and Salt Lake City.
I pack three apples and a jar of almond butter for the plane, just in case the food is as bad as everyone makes it sound.
It isn’t.
I only leave the mashed potatoes.