The man sitting across the desk once offered me $20 to run down his block in my underwear. He never paid. Such moments still snake through me. He ends his phone call, holds out his hand without standing up. No blink at my fake name (thank you, chemo!). Before I can answer, he informs me I look like a Lexus guy. It is quite possible this man has never given me another thought. I find myself unable to listen to other things he goes on to say. This man will listen to many, many grievances during his final hours.
David Erlewine has flash fiction and short stories published in a variety of print and web lit journals, including HOBART, IDENTITY THEORY, IN POSSE REVIEW, LITERAL LATTE, PINDELDYBOZ, SLOW TRAINS, SMOKELONG QUARTERLY, and WORD RIOT. Most recently his work has appeared in the anthology "WHAT HAPPENED TO US THESE LAST COUPLE YEARS?"
He lives in Washington, DC, with his wife and two children. When informed that Daddy writes, David's son exclaimed, "And he does dishes!" Thankfully he didn't reference Daddy's unhealthy time spent refreshing Facebook.