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"You'll be here, right? When I come back?" I said, but his eyes faltered.

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"Crack!" A cascade of shards crashed around me like a hailstorm.

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I remember a time when we owned the world, back when we were grownups.

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The bunker was chilling, echoing drops of gas filled my ears so I couldn't hear myself think.

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He approached me with a determination and gusto that caused my palms to sweat.

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The same man sat on the same bus everyday, and we have never spoken.

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Their eyes followed the bounce of my every step as I walked across the street, like I was prey.

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Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones

# data[].attributes.headline
Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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I sat, hunched on the floor, my stomach rumbling.

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The king doesn't know I'm here, hiding in his walls.

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As I laid in the hospital bed on the verge of death I recalled my youth, back when I was a grownup.

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He was now decrepit, just an old shell.

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A strange man has been staying in my house for the last 3 months, yet I still have know idea who he is, and my mom refuses to tell me.

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His eyes were like daggers, staring straight at me for what felt like eternity.

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I ran my fingers across the cold metal sign just outside the Flying Pig bar.

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The sunlight bounced off in every direction, creating a shiny world that blinded everyone and everything.

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My eldest brother, the King, traced his finger following the lines of the crack.

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If you're reading this, then the stranger has found you too.

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Everywhere I step is broken shards in a city filled with broken people.

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Mother died today.

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I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.

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Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler

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Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler

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Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person.

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It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not.

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Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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I am a sick man...I am a spiteful man.