Roy shifts the heavy workbench, studies the contours in the blanket of dust beneath. Pencils, nutshells. And glasses: thick, over-sized, cracked. Alan.

A breath, a quick polish, and his reflection blinks back at him. It’s changed since he last saw it in those lenses, moments before they hit the floor.

Richard Day Gore followed his passion for several arts from Virginia to Manhattan, where he worked as Senior Editor of a publishing house specializing in medical anthologies. The experience left him with Chronic Adjective Deprivation Syndrome, the treatment for which is writing fiction. He’s permanently recuperating in Southern California, where he also paints and writes music.