Stone and Ash
I was thirty-four years old and standing in the basement of a church in Yburg, holding a paper cup of bad coffee, wondering how I had let…
Topaz Type
Writing from New York, usually late at night with strong coffee while writing. Most of my posts live in Anal. I have a soft spot for the fake relationship that becomes real, real conversation before the bedroom door closes, and clear enthusiasm once it does. Constructive comments and favorites are always welcome. Ranked by how many readers finish them. Some are free to read in full; the rest open with a free preview.
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Stories by Topaz Type
Helmet Day at the Lek
I got to the lek perimeter at two in the afternoon with a clipboard, two pens, and a paper cup of chai I'd already finished.
Marathon Night
The dome swallowed sound in a funny way.
The Plum Wine Bet
I moved to Alder Creek on a gray Tuesday in March, thirty-four years old, freshly divorced, and carrying everything I owned in the back of…
Heat Exchanges
The night I turned thirty and Anders stayed twenty-nine, Anders hung a string of bulbs along the fire escape rail and told me the ritual…
Walls Between Us
The bookshelf broke on a Tuesday, which felt about right for my life that month.