Machine gun Road (short story)
Fiction is fact distilled into truth.
~ Edward Albee
Dark. Damp. Cold.
Can’t be! I don’t have a passport.
Time? Feels like midnight to my aching bones.
Can’t be! The stereo is playing loudly.
Our neighbors hate music at night.
Well, They hate it all the time.
Maybe they hate our music because they can’t understand it?
Maybe it’s us they hate? Our freedom?
The local police also hate our music and us.
They’ll hate us more if they were to find all this shit lying around in the flat.