I wrote the following short story in October, 2002, while I was wasting away in a ghetto apartment in Burlington, Vermont. I found the story by accident this morning while going through some retrieved files from an old laptop. The story was instantly recognizable, and I thoroughly enjoyed rereading it. I have trouble revising and submitting such old works to literary journals, because they feel like they were written by a previous incarnation, and therefore (in a sense) another person. But I love finding old drafts, because of their archival significance, just as I love the posthumous “found stories” of favorite writers. Continue reading →