@frank.dombrowski

You have spent years on the threads at two in the morning, the films you could recite, the stories where someone wakes up in a stranger's arms and stranger's hands. It was always a thing for other people to write.… read on →

Connor Reilly's moustache itches, and that is the first thing I know about being him. Fifteen minutes, and the lip still feels like something glued on. The dorm room hums with other people's sleep. A roommate's fan… read on →

You are standing in Cody Mullins's barn at the hour when the horses are only shapes. Six minutes in him and you have already learned what he is: tall, easy, rich in a country way. He has a gelding in the end stall who… read on →

You are Terrence Boyd, and you have been him for five minutes, standing in a dark kitchen in Ohio with a cold glass of water you haven't drunk. His knees are good. His belly is warm and heavy and sure of itself. His… read on →

You are standing in a kitchen in Rural Texas, in Wade Lundgren's body, and the house is asleep around you. His knees ache from the cab. His thumb keeps worrying the chinstrap beard he shaved off the top of his head and… read on →