“Nights on Arnold Drive, 1986” by Corey Sabourin

There was always cigarette smoke. Always a conversation in a hallway and shrieking laughter in the kitchen. The beer was running low and a candle had been left dangerously burning in a bedroom. A door slammed. A phone call would send off a carload and those left emptied the ashtrays, heated up a can of soup, pulled out a laundry bag and started folding. Someone was in a foul mood, someone had just been forgiven, but it was always Rickie Lee Jones on the stereo. At that house on Arnold Drive you or me were welcome any time and oftentimes barely noticed.

More fiction at Used Furniture.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: