Joe strips his first-date clothes.
Mouth open, he pulls down his tongue, unzips his skin suit, head to crotch.
He reaches inside and pulls out his heart. The heart looks like china—shattered, then glued back together. More than once.
Joe sheds the skin. A young man emerges, heart intact.
Maura gets paid to be a nerd and writes short fiction so she’ll be less of a pain in the neck to those around her. Read her publications at maurayzmore.com or come say ‘hi’ on Twitter.
“Growing up I always had a bunk bed,” Frank said aloud. “Come to think of it, we had bunks at summer camp, too. Just the sight of them brings me back to happier times.” A big nostalgic grin bloomed across Fred’s face.
“All right, convicts. Lights out!” shouted the guard.
Craig writes in his free time for free. He’d listen to offers to change this.