Member-only story
Wares
What’s left after the storm?
Simon wonders if anything will be left after the storm flattens this place; if any of what he has created here will make it through.
For that matter, he wonders if he’ll make it through. In his little studio there is a glimmery, shiny pile of sequined fabric that’s almost something but not quite. He really should have taken care of the transmission on the Toyota last week. Now everyone has hit the coastal evacuation route and Simon figures he’s just going to have to ride this one out.
Simon loves his little shop.
He left the city five years ago with a trunk full of feathers, enamel, little boxes of seashells, glitter, macramé rope, stencils, pipe cleaners, felt, grommets, paint brushes and an indescribable, bone-deep need for something that he was never going to find in Miami. So he packed up the Toyota and left. On the seat next to him was his secret: a massive series of stories within stories that flattened out into sneaky fourth wall compromises before curling back into an intractable narrative that sneered at structure and refused to arc.
Simon knew he wasn’t a writer.
But he was a voracious reader who started this monster a year out of grad school and had no idea how to end it or where it was going. It was enough to just lose himself in it night after…
