Christopher O’Meara

Unraveled

He kept staring at it, but it would not speak to him. What would it take?
He cocked his head and began to massage his temples.
A cigarette! He eagerly reached into his shirt pocket. Shit! Fresh out after that seamstress bled him dry during lunch…

Distinguished Writer of the ArtAscent Black call for entry. To see the full body of work, grab a copy of the ArtAscent Art & Literature Journal Black issue.
www.christopheromeara.com

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