by Evalyn Lee
It was like having a stream of people mooning her, looking out the window as the train traveled down to Washington, D.C. This was the close-up asshole view of America: the graffitied walls, all the warehouse depots with their empty ledges, the broken glass, the broken pots, and always the dying, grubby grass on the ground beside the train tracks.
Deborah lifted up her iPhone 4s and took a picture.
Then she updated her status to “Single.” Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 