The soda machine is humming the wrong vowel. It hums. It makes a sound so electric it hurts like accidentally biting your tongue. And it's amazing it belongs to no one. It is its own country. A few quarters and you’re not thirsty but all your quarters go in and never come out and you lose them to the other side. Which reminds me of how strange parking lots are.
Forecast is being serialized semiweekly across 42 web sites. For a full list of participants and links to live chapters, please visit www.shyascanlon.com/forecast
The sallow cowboy asks you to dance so you put the limes down & accept. Flat in his arms, tracing the baseboards, faces leering around you with beer bottle noses & hands made of foam. The room queers quickly, blending, then spirals, & the cowboy’s hand on your back is a knob, a way to open you up, & out.
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