On Sundays, a new piece of work by the author will be published on this page. It can be a short story, it can be a poem, it can be an essay; the only certainty is that it’s covered with syrup, nuts, and whipped cream!
Herández
After his tenth lap, Sheldon always got into the zone. Back and forth, back and forth. The steady rhythm of his strong limbs moving through the water had a hypnotising effect. Soothing. It had taken him a couple of months to get used to the strict mandatory laps rules of the Colony; back on Earth he hardly left the bed for any other reason than to change the Battery Regulation System when it was down. Life had been so easy. His bed had everything he desired, from refrigerator to ISL. He had Instant Social Life here too, but who needed to connect digitally when you lived together in a sphere with fifty other humans on their first mission to AK-9854271.
Guilt
Twelve beef hamburgers sizzled on the hot plate. Lena stared at them until it was time for the flip. The flip was her favourite part of this stupid Summer job. She hated the smell. She hated the noise. She hated the contact with other people. She hated her co-workers. She hated how little she earned for working her ass off thirty two hours a week. But most of all, she hated herself. This self loathing had nothing to do with her job at the burger joint; it had everything to do with why she was there.
