You’re driving down Sunset in a rented Miata looking for something…anything.  It’s not a town you could really see yourself living in, you know, the whole “it’s a great place to visit” thing.  It’s been a couple of hours since you landed, by now you’re all cleaned up – still a little groggy from the flight, but still steady enough to take on the night.  For a while you just turn onto the streets you’ve heard of on television, just trying to kill time before you’ve got to show up to the front door of a party you don’t want to go to for a person you don’t want to see.  There’s no making any sense of the radio stations so you dig around for some kind of diversion.  A loose CD is rattling around in the passenger’s side door.  It says “To Ashley, Love, Tony.”  The first song is a slinky dance floor lullabye that flickers like the rhythmic passing of streetlights.  After pulling to a stop in front of the house, you write “Breathe In Tact” on your hand.  You take a deep breath, shut off the car, and head to the front door.

Cale Parks, Breathe In Tact

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— Joseph Tirabassi