The biggest problem, such as it is, with this story is that my favorite part is the first paragraph, which pretty much captures life for the mid-twenties writer who is also living alone and professional. The rest is fun too, a daydream through this thing they call living.
Six months ago, I spent my Friday night like this: I made some gooey macaroni and cheese, drank whiskey out of a little juice glass, and then experimented with drinking whiskey stirred into a mug of hot peach tea. I scrolled through my phone and left messages for friends I thought might be going out to bars. I watched the documentaryHelvetica—about the typeface, Helvetica. I smiled at the attractive Swedish men arguing over the politics signified by a particular typeface, but I was discomfited by the slippery Ouroboros arguments around Modernism. I took my trusty vibrator for a ride. Then it dawned on me that I needed to finally decorate my apartment.
And, readers and writers, let’s collaborate: Send me your favorite online short stories along with a couple hundred characters’ worth of the thoughts it inspires in you. I’ll add the entry to the growing story collection and link back to the online you of your choice. We’ll make you a Storyfront editor, or something.
I’m making this up as I go.