…I’m still too stressed to laugh or put two and two together. But I vaguely remember that she’s told me a rumor before. That one time when he played Batman, he did not close the guest bathroom door fully as he changed into the costume. And the mother of the house, or a random adult female guest, saw something she shouldn’t have. But she didn’t complain, and was actually titillated. And that she asked him about what else he could do. And since then, a few mothers asked for him by name specifically. They found ways for a mascotted character to fit into their events—even if it was a friend’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s-themed bridal shower.
Excerpt from Transformer
Continue reading at Chestnut Review.
Who will haggle with an executive chef on the thirty-eighth floor of a hotel overlooking the Atlantic? I hear the tire company even mulls our name for a star.
I pull another ribeye from the chiller. The meat is honest against my palms—cold, real, requiring nothing but respect. I cook it rarer this time. Too rare, if I’m honest. The kind that will be cool in the center.
Customer is lecturing his date now, hands drawing shapes in the air. Probably about back in Atlanta or when I was in Manhattan, they understand meat differently. Have you heard of porterhouse? She nods, an eager puppy.
Excerpt from Mouth-Feel
Continue reading at SmokeLong Quarterly
Sarah Juma, Writer & Filmmaker. 