Hallelujah

It’s a typical boring Saturday. Susie woke two hours ago, but is still lying in bed, thinking. She stares at the top-bunk ceiling, breathing the air of her shared bedroom. One of those leftover-hot mornings. A lonely box fan whirs in the window. 

Hungry

I had made some mistakes, but none worse than the stubborn and persistent tamping down of desire. Here I lived, in the age of excess and indulgence, of MTV and designer jeans...

Desire

I sleep through my alarm. Sometimes, I let the hell-clock buzz for more than an hour. Sometimes, in the throes of a delicious sleep fantasy, I convince myself that I must have made a mistake in setting it the night before. 

Liz Shine

Books

Selected work