two doors down

The air sticks like an awkward hug on a hot day. Milo is smoking a joint on the stoop two doors down. He doesn’t live there. He just smokes there. I’m unsure of the protocol around that. “Hey, is that my writer?” Milo calls out, and I grin. “Hey, Milo. What’s up?” “Just taking a commercial break. Want a hit?” The question still surprises me, after all this time. “Nah, thanks.” Milo smirks. “How ya been? When ya gonna come see me at the club?” “You’re still at the club?” His hands loll from their wrists, showing me his light palms. “Why wouldn’t I still be at the club.” “I dunno. People change jobs.” Again, “Why...

Read More