The Agent – a short story.

I was still tired after my flight, and I was tormented by an unusually strong thirst. Those are the only excuses I can offer for my actions.


Elinor – A short story.

The venetian blind clacked against the window frame and waited, trembling, for the breeze to lift it again. When it did, shadows bunched and rippled along Simone’s legs, lingered at the hem of her skirt, and fell back to her ankles. A tide, rushing up a beach, and retreating.