100 Words: The First Rush


’m going to go into the tunnel and slide around it like a tongue on a swizzle stick until I’m so dizzy that every color blurs into mud that cakes on my forehead and scratches a mysterious message onto the sheets so that we have to get everything that we can into grandpa’s old suitcase before the last bus leaves filled with canisters of shaving cream and mockingbirds booked into Radio City Music Hall for their big reunion tour, but you’re pulling my giant ears off and staring right into my eyes yelling, “Baby, don’t trip out. Stay with me.”

by JW Rogers

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