Category: Fiction

Hank had already looked at two rental apartments today. Neither was even remotely promising. The first was in a five-story brick building on a crowded street on Chicago’s North Side with an abandoned warehouse for a neighbor. As he had approached the address in his car, all it had taken was one look at the building

“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”  —Andre Breton 1. John Downey is used to waking up early. It is his habit to get up before dawn, often rising as early as 4:30 in the morning. As a college student John is frequently at the old Franklin Library building

The memories seem all black-and-white eight-millimeter movies now, a grainy montage of scenes from his earlier life. They comfort him in ways the doctors cannot see, as if the struggling mind by some instinct knows there’s fortitude in the familiar and the old. There are the neighborhood children gathered around the old backyard picnic table,