More often than not lately I’ve found myself digging to get to the heart of every matter. It feels like I’m constantly wading through an endless amount of emails or trolling around twitter feeds and facebook timelines. This is a common argument: there’s just too much information out there. At the end of most days it is easy to feel that there is an abundance of dirt under my fingernails, and so little substance to carry in my hands.
The stories I’ve been craving are focused, honest ones. The Utility Room, by Michael Nye, is just the ticket. You need a break too, don’t you? Visit The Utility Room for a while. Meet Ellen.
On Thursdays, Ellen would find the sheets in a small pile by the door. The trash can was always emptied and relined with a plastic bag from the grocery store; the hall bathroom remained spotless. Other than the windows and the clump of sheets on the floor, it was as if they were never there at all…
Read the rest at the Atticus Review.
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Thanks for vouching for my story: I raise a whiskey glass (several of ‘em) to you guys!