short stories and poetry by Andrew Brown
Adam woke up dutifully every morning at 7AM to prepare for work as a bank teller. Every morning he would wake up, shower, dress, eat, and drive his little, blue Honda to First State Bank over on Herald Street. For more than eight hours each day, he stood at the front desk and helped the people who came in. He didn’t mind the monotony; after Sarah had left him the year before, he’d really not given much enthusiasm to anything at all. His job was perfect for passing the time.
Whether you want to or not Admit it to me, now Gelatin residue on our eyes From a night spent together in dreams Fake worlds of green and orange Entwined so, so naturally Without a trace of jam Delicious jam.