Screen Shot 2017-11-22 at 12.49.04 PM

Silvia was asleep when the plane hit the first tower, only rousing at the impact of the second plane because the low din of the television she always slept to had become a roar.

By the time the towers began to disintegrate, she was on her third cup of coffee, and the televisions were on in every room she might happen to transit through.

She couldn’t get through to her brother in Brooklyn, but kept the cell phone in one hand while the other carried the coffee cup from her mouth to the table and back again. A motion repeated over and under, over and under again, lacing together moments as you might a shoe—or, more accurately, a boot, because the laces were drawn tight, high and hard…

Short story in GUD Magazine, Issue 7, 2010-2016. Click to order.