For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form

“Reverting to a Wild State”

Justin Torres


“Explain, explain,” Nigel demanded, but he did not want me to explain anything. I had become a monster to him, and he needed me to stay a monster. I kept silent, slowly spinning a sugar packet on the table with the tip of my finger. The waitress gave us a wide berth—Nigel was weeping openly—but I wished she would come and refill my empty cup. I listened to Nigel; I watched him cry; I rummaged around inside myself and tried to find a memory, a hurt, that would enable me to cry as well. I’d been a dick, dicked around, throughout the long near-decade of our relationship, countless men, often, though not always, for money. In penance, I wanted to cry for him now. I rummaged and rummaged, but I was dry.