Author: Jack Sinn

Mitch lost track of how many times he yawned, but were he to hazard a guess, the count was somewhere in the upper 20s. Taking a pan from off the pot rack, he placed it on a burner and twisted the knob below. After a few clicks came a whiff of gas, and then a…

Around 6pm, the sound of tires crunching over gravel came while headlights pierced through the kitchen windows. Jodie elbowed Mitch, stating the obvious that it “must be them” while pointing in that direction with a kitchen knife that she’d been chopping cucumbers with. Reaching over to switches next to the door, Mitch flicked on the…

“Well, wanna go see if there’s any old person games to play? Pretty sure there’s some dominoes or Cribbage. There’s at least gotta be a deck of cards,” Mitch offered so that they didn’t dwell on the subject any further. “You think that old Nintendo is still around?” Jodie perked up. “Don’t see why it…

It’d been years since Mitch pulled onto the winding old dirt road that led to the house; when he was a kid, he swore that it was several kilometers long, but it only measured a hundred meters from end to end. Driving through an overgrown patch of big bluestem grass, and the tips of which…

For the week and a half leading up to the trip, Jodie took the opportunity to point out every single tree around Monument that changed color. Her enthusiasm was visceral when the temperature dipped into the low 50s, not only for the long weekend ahead, but because she could begin to wear what she referred…

Mitch’s brain hit the ground and splattered into a million chunks; if he reached up and touched the side of his face, he might find blood gushing out of his ear canal and dribbling down his jawline. Of course, were that the case, present company would probably alert him. “Oh, that’s cool,” Jodie nodded. “Where’s…

By the grace of god or some higher power, Mitch was granted freedom from the sling. Never had he been itchier in his entire life than right then, and he nearly scratched his forearm raw after he left the hospital. “We should celebrate,” Jodie declared that evening as Mitch listened to a Black Rebel Motorcycle…

Sitting by the exit was a small wastebin, nearly full of small paper cups and used tissues. As Mitch passed it, he discarded the one that he clutched for the last 45 minutes, and it felt like letting go of a security blanket. He lingered on the front steps and fidgeted with the edges of…