Crouch
At the indie house show, a girl crouched down to feel around on the wooden floors for a ring that slipped off her finger. She had been fiddling with it, sliding it up and down, and then lost her grip.
The guitars quieted, the bass and drums landed on a smooth rhythm, and the lead singer approached the mic, instructing everybody to get low. The band started up again, and as the singer worked his way through the bridge, the crowd began to crouch, slowly, in time with the music. This distressed the girl, who found it more difficult to find her ring.
As the song continued and the crowd jumped back onto their feet, she got knocked onto her side, where a glint of metal appeared beneath a barstool.
No. 093
Manhunt
The helicopter swooped low in the sky, then banked, rose slightly, and hovered above the high school. Cop cars already blocked the roads, southbound and eastbound. A group of teenagers mingled on the grass between them, arriving too late to get to class. An hour before, two students raced down Olympic, swerving in and out of lanes. Screeching to a stop in front of the school, one of them pulled a gun and chased the others onto the campus. When they arrived, the officers began combing the schoolyard for the hidden students.
———
Over a bullhorn a cop instructed a man to drop his weapon. He had attempted robbery of a fast food restaurant, but companies don’t leave as much cash anymore, and the managers that had the keys to the safe were not on shift. He ran out to the road as the police rounded the corner. He placed the gun in his waistband and slid down an alley between apartment buildings as the whirring blades of a helicopter appeared overhead. The searchlight illuminated the dark alley as he removed the gun from his waistband and let it fall to the concrete.
No. 091
Grindset
His coworkers listed their side hustles: website creation for local small businesses, crocheted objects, painting, poetry groups, grassroots political campaigning. Spencer began to feel inadequate, as if the hours spent outside of work should’ve been utilized, also, for monetization.
So he brainstormed and ordered an ice cream machine. He began to draft different recipes, ordered several dozen empty pints, and dreamed of a table at the Hollywood farmers’ market. As the first batch sat in the freezer, he created a spreadsheet to calculate the costs poured into the endeavor.
But the first batch came out a soupy mess. He threw it away, then stared at the box of pints and the machine and the balance on his credit card, wondering if it was ever worth it to try.
No. 090
Sprinkler
Buildings in the neighborhood automate their sprinkler systems to activate during the night. Under cover of darkness the grasses, bushes, and palms are kept lush.
Near midnight, one of the sprinklers malfunctioned, or had been damaged, and sprayed a wave of water twenty feet into the air, passing the lowest-hanging electrical line. Gallon after gallon of water fell into the road, then ran along the curb, down the hill, and into the sewer.
No. 089
Diurnal
Afternoon, late spring. A neighbor’s overgrown garden sits in the shade, chimney covered with a tarp for months, chipped bricks piled at its base. From the weeds a coyote escapes, stepping gingerly between the plants and debris. The animal thin—it moves slowly, pauses to turn and look at us with a sense of disorientation behind its eyes. The sun shines off its pale grey coat as it returns to the shadows.
No. 088
Grade
The RV blocked about two-thirds of the street. It descended from a side road that had a grade of around 15% leading into the hills. As it came down to the flat main road, the rear half of the RV smashed into the rising slope, rendering the vehicle stuck. The driver and his passenger exited the cabin and stood beside the front of the RV, directing traffic around them as they waited for rescue.
No. 087
Arrival
With a turn of the key the engine quiets. He sees the pacific through the windshield, sun approaching the horizon line. Driving all day, then all night, then all day again. Muscle fatigue set in, glycogen stores depleting. Stale air, recycled air-conditioning, comforted him at first, and now left his stomach sick. As the car rests, he begins to hear the rhythmic coming and going of the waves. His eyes roam to the rearview: pale brown mountain range hiding everything behind them.
No. 086
Courier
The courier stood on the ground floor beside the main road. He left the medium size box addressed to me on the ground behind him. Passersby headed to the boutique grocery store; buses ran along the street feet away from him; coworkers crossed the walkway toward restaurants.
I stood on the second floor landing above, waiting for him. Others entered and exited the main lobby. With each new person I looked to see if one or another may hold the box I ordered.
No. 084
Stoppage
Traffic bottlenecked behind two empty cop cars and an abandoned SUV, hazards signalling the malfeasance at play. This forced cars to merge down to one lane at rush hour. A hundred feet farther, a third cop car sat in the parking lot of an apartment building. Four officers hung around the car chatting. Flashing police lights illuminated the slowly darkening street.
No. 083
Recovery
J. approached the microphone, prepared to address the day’s volunteers. A gray shirt, he had been a successful alumnus of the program. Stepping out of the shade he became blinded by the midday sun. Then, his spiel: the drive to California; living out of his car; totaling the car; becoming addicted to meth; bouncing around dens; hard sleeping; finding the center; starting the program. He thanked the founder of the program, and explained the job placement and apartment placement process. He was two years clean. The sunlight in his eyes prevented him from making eye contact with any of the volunteers, upper-middle-class office workers. He considered it a blessing that he could speak freely without judgment.
No. 082
Dog Fight
At the birthday party a small black dog cowered under the food table, tail between its legs, teeth bared. A husky followed it around, looming over it, pestering it with a wet nose. The small dog lunged forward, snapped at the husky, and scurried across the courtyard to its owner who picked it up and caressed it into submission. The husky followed and circled around the now-raised dog. The owner of the husky did not notice the interaction.
No. 081
Ants
In the tall grass on a spring morning a young boy sat on a picnic blanket. A sharp pain in his foot, he turned to scrape at the skin and noticed a mound of ants nearby. Gleefully he took a piece of bread, placed it near the mound, and watched as the workers carried crumb after crumb to their queen. Then, he took his orange soda and flooded the antpile, watching as the ants were washed clean from their home. The thrill wore off quickly, and he forgot about the ants until, walking back to the car, he stepped in the sticky residue of his mess.
No. 078
An Interruption
“When I was a kid, I used to walk looking at the ground. Always my head was bent over. My dad said to me: “Vladimir! Why are your eyes looking toward the ground! Be a man and stand tall!” When I turned 18, I saw the world for the first time. I looked up. I started to move with confidence—I had a goal. I searched how to be an actor in America. So I moved to Boston, I worked for six years in Boston, international hospitality. I studied Kung fu. I learned twelve languages. Then when I thought I was ready, I moved to Los Angeles. Already in a year I’ve been in over twenty films! I go through town, I meet other actors, I ask them: “What have you been in?” They say nothing! Ten years nothing! How can you call yourself an actor, and for ten years not booked a role? I never rest. I’ll take anything. Student film. Independent production. Web series. Every time I get better and better.”
No. 077
Elevator
The doors to the elevator opened, and a couple new to the gym stood inside. “We’re riding it up and down,” she said. I got in and stood beside them, pressing the correct button for the top floor of the garage.
She turned to her boyfriend and continued a conversation. “He was in a pissy mood, too. He said he was going to file a police report. Honestly, I respected the girl behind the front desk for not taking his shit. She called security to come get him.” The doors to the elevator opened, and I let them exit before me.
My mind wandered—Maybe someone took a photo of him in the locker room. Or he found someone rummaging through his locker. Perhaps an ex-boyfriend was stalking him, and he had a restraining order the gym wouldn’t honor. Maybe one of the handsy maintenance guys took too long of a look while he was in the shower.
No. 076
Free
Fresh succulent cuttings grew out of an empty pinot noir case. A hand-written note rested on the side for any neighbors interested in replanting or regrowing them.
A lemon tree plump with fruit grew in the front yard of a house. A cardboard sign reading “Do Not Take Lemons” was tied around the trunk with a thick, layered rope. The lemons glistened in the afternoon sun.
A collection of plates and bowls, cheap and plastic, sat atop a wrinkled tarp. Ants from a mound beside it crawled over the dinnerware.
Neighbors left a couch blocking half the sidewalk. The wooden bones of the structure looked solid and well-made. The cushions could be thrown out and replaced, and the furniture would be good as new.
No. 075
Around
In the hills of Hollywood, public trails run hidden between the winding roads. Along one of them, an abandoned dog collar sat on a rock baking in the sun. Climbing onto the curved road above it, I whipped my head around, expecting to see a car rounding the bend behind me, but it was a phantom noise from vehicles I could not see.
No. 074