The keys jingled as NSime fetched them out of his pocket and picked the right one in the failing hallway light. The faux-gold key was the first thing he saw before opening his door for seven years going. The serif font declaring the lock and key as ‘Titan’ always made him want to chuckle at how his people had relegated a race of overtly immortal, war-god giants to mere gatekeepers of their worthless possessions. His chuckle came out unsteadily as another wave of shudders hit him. He soon realized it had been a bad idea to go into the neighborhood…


The darkness stretched in all directions; unbreaking. It lay thick and heavy like mist on the floor of a land under misty skies. But unlike the land, there was no sky. Neither there was there a discernible ground. If there was anyone to look at it, they would have taken it as a fact that they had gone blind. So deep was this darkness. So imposing; so complete.

However, there lay a patch of light some long ways from where the dark started and a long way from where it ended. A little dot of light that would have looked…


Alexandra, will I see you at the show tonight? I was wondering if we could discuss how gravity is nothing more than a careful balance of centripetal and centrifugal forces on a cosmic scale.

The message remained delivered but unread for the next thirty seconds that it took my backlight to go off. I let out a sigh and eased out of the fetal position I had adopted on the couch. Turning my phone back on, Alexandra had still not read the message I sent to her; the double tick remained a desultory grey. I locked the phone, this time…


The glass-enclosed sign above the door declared it ‘The Plum’ in orange neon lights that sparkled softly as little drops of water slithered down its length. Here and there the foot traffic exhaled in time with a breath of the wet wind that blew through the evening. People in different shapes and sizes hunched against the drizzle inside their respective umbrellas and coats and walked nimbly in directions that required their immediate attention.

The evening ‘rush-hour’ never lives up to its name in my opinion. The faces streaming past were heavy like the clouds that stalked this June evening. The…


The long-tailed swallows are calling to each other in that screeching cadence that signals that they would be turning in for the night. Their black wings are becoming ever more invisible in the backdrop of the evening sky as they fly this way and that. The white streak on their underbellies, however, stands in stark defiance to the approaching dusk. The sun, now a pregnant-looking disc of bloated orange, is diffusing so much color into the skies that it is almost jarring to realize that it is only setting and not dissolving into a celestial concentrate of carbonated Fanta. It…

Adnan Gh'zali

Kafka Liberatore. Writer of fiction. Heavily influenced by Japanese literature especially Haruki Murakami. 🦋

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