June 25, 2024

Reading John Cheever During Monday Night Football

By Laton Carter

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Somebody is always settling the score. On the terrace, before and after dinner—drinks, the air rich with assignation. Ruse and calumny come later. For now, the radio deals out Schubert—winsome arpeggios sober in the tilt of a shifting struggle. Brute force is the shy, smiling neighbor attendant to your spouse. Potatoes go unpeeled. Remember, no one is safe. Domestic cartography is an idle guide, clouding the night with stars. Guileless and wild, the spiral dividing the air is just a ball.

About the Author

Laton CarterLaton Carter’s fiction appears in The Boiler, Invisible City, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Salamander, Slackjaw, and other journals. Carter works in a middle school in Western Oregon.

Related Flash
unrecognizable person walking on illuminated street in evening

City. Night. Bursting.

By Tommy Dean

“Look, I know I shouldn’t be looking, but the city heat has me out on the streets, the dusty air pushed between buildings by gliding cars, windows open, soft music orchestrating their growling engines down the road, bumper to bumper, red lights sending messages to the twinkling skies, exhorting their ownership over the land.”
wood light dirty school

English Teachers

By Sophia Carroll

“There was the one who always picked the same girl to be Juliet. He read for Romeo. Called her “statuesque.”

person fishing on dock

Well Situated

By Angela Townsend

“I have not seen that man in a number of years. I wonder if he is still in the crawlspace of his bi-level, with the wind report in one hand and the edicts of AccuWeather in the other. All he wanted was a fair fight with the flukes of Barnegat Bay. You can fish in the rain.”

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This