"Why don't you wait upstairs? It's a private area, like an apartment. There's nobody there." We agree, but it's not clear where the access lies. There it is: iron rungs set into the pillar at the center of the room, like the ones climbed by circus acrobats to reach the trapeze. Upstairs the apartment is small, with new carpets like a motel room. But there's tracked-in water from the rainy deck outside. It's not true that the place is unused.
Post
a comment about this piece
back to the January TOC
back to the main blog page
© 2002-8 Mark Phillips.
All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.
E-mail this page to a friend.