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FICTION • POETRY • CULTURAL INSIGHTS • STORIES
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“Journey will survive the apocalypse. Cockroaches, radiation, and some asshole singing “Don't Stop Believin'” over the ruins of Cincinnati.”
“Why Cincinnati?”
“Seems like the kind of place where the apocalypse would start.”
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
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The drag of the drawer
The twist of the cap
The clink of the ice
against the glass.
A better feeling than the sounds of today’s past.