The American Dream

Mark stumbled into the kitchen to check the time on his grimy oven. It read 12:03 PM. He should have been out the door and en route to work by 11:45. His phone was dead and he was sporting a mild hangover. “Fuck this,” he snapped. Mark’s audience, if you can call it that, was comprised solely of his cat Jules. The feline was indifferent to the plight of his human. “Another day in the dungeon.” Mark grumbled. Hopelessness was kicking in. Jules rolled around in the sun on his back, paying no attention to him. Continue reading “The American Dream”

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