12:40 A.M.




12:40 A.M.

 
Touching Scott’s skin as he slept—this new interesting man who just an hour ago had come stirringly inside of her—Joy drifted to an early memory of her parents, lying naked together in the living room. “What’s the matter, Sweetie, can’t sleep?” her mother asked. Seeing her folks like that had been startling but also made her feel safe. Her mom tucked her in with a gentle kiss; “Goodnight.” Scott’s skin was warm and smooth, like his breathing. Closing her eyes, Joy didn’t hear the traffic outside, the trucks surging down the highway, drivers alone listening to their radios.
 
Alan Humason
 
Alan Humason is a writer in Fort Bragg, CA. He has published short fiction and poetry in such periodicals as Flash: The International Short Story Magazine, Third Wednesday, The Longleaf Pine, The Reed, WORK, and 100wordstory.com. He has a BA in English Literature from UC Santa Barbara and is a past winner of the Grand Prize Phelan Award for writing from San Jose State University

 

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