……Blocks of Dust

SELF-STORAGE. . .Skin grey, hair stuck in thick cords of sweat and grime. She slept, constantly. Sucking night into her body, breathing, without life, an engine. Attendants in grey uniforms would glide in and out of the room. She was sitting up in bed, looking around. In the streetlight her skin was pale, smooth fresh, cheeks flushed with heat. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and it shone. Last night, he’d awakened in the middle of the night. A week went by. Something got better. Her sleep seemed to be restoring her. These types of angels, their spirits released violently, in a state that wasn’t quite holy. They had to have somewhere to go before heading off to a funeral and then eternal rest. A couple of blocks of dust and space. A lot of people in a city died every day. Interdimensional waiting rooms.

SELF-STORAGE. . .the sun was coming up, damn it. Someone came up the eastern stairwell. The mid-morning shadows slid down the wall to the floor.

Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and it shone.




walking and mountain collage


Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and it shone.

He thought he caught the scent of oranges and roses. Or something better. He watched as she put out her cigarette, and lay her head down on two folded hands. “How are you doing?” he asked. The angel turned the covers back on the bed. His whole body was ripped with holes. He took her hands in both of his and sat on the edge of her bed, speaking quietly to her. He stroked her hair as she sobbed. The friends watched. The sounds of traffic carried on below. She buried her head in his chest. They rocked for a moment together in a sun-puddle. The sunlight moved and caught the darkness in his hair and lit it from behind. His hazel eyes became golden… SELF-STORAGE

She poured more into her hand, and combed it through his beard with her fingers. She handed him a small mirror from her bag and stood back. “Whatcha think?” The smell of something. Oranges and roses? filled the air. He was glad he’d come this way, first. … SELF-STORAGE … SELF-STORAGE

set interference


Barbro Rakos left an award-winning career as a know-it-all at 8:04 a.m. approximately two years ago after a blow to the head. All she could remember were the words to Pet Shop Boys and how to make pictures and stories. She can be found in Seattle and beyond, updating twitter at @discobreath and instagram at @barbro. Barbro is her real name, if she isn’t too tired.

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