Confessions

It’s 5:25am, the morning after Christmas; Strayerstown is still drowned in effortless sleep. There is pitch blackness and utter silence, Even the crickets seem to have gone to rest. My heart is racing, so I toss and turn, partly because my mild asthma, as the doctor called it, doesn’t seem so mild this winter, partly…

We’re just friends

She says I should resist the devil and not call him tonight. I look at her misguidedly, like a little child who has been denied an extra ball of akara. I don’t need to hear it from her, I already told myself that I wasn’t going to call him anyways, that it was the smart,…