Last Lighting

He found the listing the day it was posted and toured it the next. He signed the lease on Monday and had two weeks to pack his life. He stayed up late into the night, scrolling through the listing just to see the photographs and envision where he would place the couch, which windows would house the plants, and how the light would come through the Juliet balcony in the evenings, leaving striated shadows from the setting sun.

Once he moved in, he took a glass of wine, stood against the balcony, and felt a sense of calm that returned to him as an old, familiar friend. Then, falling asleep that first night, he noticed the street light outside his window was colored deep purple, and illuminated the street in a disorienting violet hue. The shade came through the slats of the window, and Jason found it impossible to fall asleep.

No. 170

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