Train Wreck While Fleeing
Everything seemed like a metaphor, as if I was a teenager or a poet.
“Assistant” in front of my title. I—we, me and Lisa—had turned into accountants or insurance adjusters, manipulating mere columns of numbers for a living.
I'm a writer living in Denver. My journalistic work has appeared in places like WIRED, the Washington Post, Slate, the Atlantic, and others, and my short stories have shown up in places like the Alaska Quarterly Review, Camera Obscura, the Adirondack Review, and LIT. I have a dog who is learning to speak English, and I enjoy trail running, biking, trying to read topographic maps, and staring at the Milky Way in my spare time.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Sarah Scoles
You have been added to the notification list for author Sarah Scoles
More in this series
Alfonzo looked aghast, like they were the two most naïve immigrants in the history of New York. “ICE is preparing to break through that door with guns and night vision goggles, maybe even dogs, and you’re worried about the breeze?”