@caleb.vandermeer

You have the page open and nothing else to do with the night. The house is asleep, the feed has stopped giving you anything, and the wheel sits there in the dark, all its slices lit. You have loved this for as long as… read on →

You are Glenn Hayashi's hands on a kitchen counter in a dark Ohio house, and you have been him for five minutes. The refrigerator hums. His wife's slippers sit by the door, and upstairs a floorboard ticks as the house… read on →

The body I'm wearing hasn't slept in an hour. Caleb Vandermeer, thirty-two, five-six, skinny fat, standing in a stranger's kitchen in Queens with paint dried in the creases of his knuckles. Four minutes in him. I have… read on →