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[dialogue of] A CONFUSED BOY (WHO KNOWS HE’S MET ‘THE ONE’ BUT ISN’T READY...
. . . . . . “Aren’t you confused?” she’d ask me. “About what?” I understood what she meant I just didn’t want to let her know that I was confused every day. “How we were told our lives were supposed...
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[dialogue of] A GIRL WITH A NAME STARTING WITH ‘B’ (WHO’S CONDUCTING...
The other night, when she was prompting that email to you to type, pretending like she was cool when I called, and you pressed ‘SEND’ because you knew it wasn’t worth your life to hesitate; I was lying...
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[dialogue of] A GIRL WHO’S GOT ‘THE SICK’ (AND DETESTS THE TOUCH OF THE BOY...
“You’ve got ‘The Sick’, babe,” my friend delivered – with sage-like experience – her confident diagnosis. The bug had hit swiftly and unannounced: one day I was comfortable with the taste of his lips...
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[dialogue of] A SLEEPING BOY (WHOSE HEAD IS BREAKING OPEN): PART I
We sat opposite one another divided by a chrome-plated hunk of tree between us that had met its fate as a boardroom table in a white-walled cell where the sun don’t shine of a flamboyantly minimalistic...
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[dialogue of] AN EMPTY BOY (LOOKING UP TO A MOON WITH – THEN LATER, WITHOUT –...
PART I (one year, five months ago) . . . . . “Can you see the moon?” I asked you. I was drunk and wet, and so were you. Midnight had burned through the little coast town pulling us away from our band...
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[dialogue of] A RECKLESS BOY (WHO DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIS LOVE’S LOVE.)
“Now where’s that god-damn moon gone?” We both looked up to the travail of God’s first day in dim. Her head bobbing – peeking, searching – and the beech blonde knot-on-top bouncing with it from...
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[dialogue of] A BOY WHO NEVER PRAYS ANYMORE (REMEMBERING THAT NIGHT HE RAN...
[for Best Experience click on the Soundcloud play button in the box below before reading] . . . . . PART I. RIGHT BEFORE THAT NIGHT I RAN INTO YOU. I remember that night I ran into you. Orion. The...
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[a page of a script] A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO PART-TIME LOVERS': ON RATIONALITY...
“I’m so glad we’re not in a full-time relationship,” she said it like a relief, taking a sip of the red he had poured for her into the nicest glass from the kitchen cupboard of his flat. “Ha!” he liked...
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[dialogues of] A PROFESSIONAL AND HER CLIENT IN THE BEAUTY SALON ONE THURSDAY...
A fictional dialogue, written by Rachael Sorensen, about what would happen if we spoke to our Waxist about the hair on our vagina the way we spoke to our Stylist about the hair on our head. . . . . ....
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[a short story] THE BEST ROOM IN MY FLAT (WITHOUT A BED).
The kitchen was nothing magnificent, but it was the best room in my flat (without a bed). Not that there was much competition. The total sum of rooms’ (without a bed) was three, and that was...
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