Short stories


Only Joy ever strapped a watch around my hardon. The Bulova hers – I’ve never worn, except for the moment in question, a watch. She loosened the band two notches. Her wrist that slender.

     Bent the shaft down. Frowned at the crystal to decipher the hour. Only with herculean effort did I hold the wad.

     She chuckled through her frown. Announced: Time to tuck you back in! Removed the Bulova. Angled my rigidity back through the flap into the shorts. Buckled back on her timepiece. Pecked my forehead. Departed the apartment for downtown.

     Leaving me with day empty, load full, page blank.

Willie Smith