Adam Chimera

A Play at Contrition

His hands were in the belly pockets of the coat and as he drew close I noticed that he had a lazy eye. I don’t like to categorize people on the basis of their looks, but this man was a perfect rendering of a pulp novel hustler, appearing dangerous not so much for what he could do physically but, rather, morally.

The Depressing World of TJ Goldman

04.4.2006 | Adam Chimera | Fiction & Fables | 2 Comments
The bus was crowded with boisterous children, many of whom TJ seemed to know. He exchanged pleasantries of the spitball and ear-flicking variety with them. Fortunately, I was more or less left alone, and TJ made no effort to introduce me to anyone. Although I noted the lack of traditional social grace (something of which I was almost as guilty), I did not dare hold this against him for fear that he might detect even my most secret disapproval. In no way did I want to increase the likelihood that some subroutine of cordiality, constructed passively by observation but unused to date, would become active in TJ and lead to my forced interaction with the other riders.

You Rip Out His Eyeball…