Fiction of the Day
The Beautiful Salmon
By Joanna Kavenna
I’ve always loved salmon. Not to eat, as I don’t eat fish, but I’ve always loved salmon in general because salmon jump and no one knows why.
I’ve always loved salmon. Not to eat, as I don’t eat fish, but I’ve always loved salmon in general because salmon jump and no one knows why.
Let me tell you about my mornings. I’m an early riser. Most days, I wake up even earlier than my wife. If the sun has risen, thin rays of light filter down through the cracks in the ceiling. I just lie there
Smethers the postman, that greasy fuck with his brown letters. Here he comes in his proud-blue uniform. It’s another day, another dense bright space to blacken in.
Anyone who asked Professor Gauss about his early memories was told that such things didn’t exist. Memories, unlike engravings or letters, were undated. One came upon things in one’s memory that
On June 16, 1993, Federal Councilor Hans Luethi was murdered. This incident had a profound effect on Switzerland. Since the deadly shot was fired, two months have passed. The political repercussions
Old Halla is dying. Painless, speechless, he sits all day in a padded chair. As the sun shifts, he is spoonfed and wheeled among jungle views. Sometimes he grips a passing arm and holds on.
He’d been applying the usual friction, first and second fingertips."Mm. Now the right,” the circular rub and flicker insisting against cloth until both nipples caught at his attention, perked and ached. The way they would.
They said on tv that the military court handed down a death sentence to the Arab who’d killed the girl soldier, and they had all kinds of people come into the studio to talk about it, and because of that
I had bought my ticket and was waiting for the L.A. bus when all of a sudden I saw the cutest little Mexican girl in slacks come cutting across my sight. She was in one of the buses that had just pulled in with a big sigh of air brakes and was discharging passengers for a rest stop.
My cashier’s black hair was beautiful. Though not unlike mine, it was shinier and thicker, and hung glamorously down to her waist. It looked strong, too, like Christopher Reeve’s in the Superman movies.
Autumn arrived with a general spray of autumn color. It wasn’t winter yet, but it would be; there was a hint in the air of the cold to follow.