Short Story – C4 and the La Paloma

    image      I hate the way it smells in here. It’s like every grandpa in America decided to die in the lobby. Tim would’ve been more into it. ‘It’s our history,’ he’d say. ‘Our family crest.’

            Capote starts at 8:50. I sit in the box office, ask a couple how many tickets they want even though there’s only two of them. They look like they’re in college and too cool for a normal theater. Continue reading