Short Story: A Word is a Weight

I slept in Jane’s bed three months before I met her. She was nameless Jane the first time, plain Jane the second, a cruel half-smile on Jack’s lips who supplied this and only this and little else, leaving me reading the rest in the spines on the bookshelves and the herbal tea selection by the kettle. Her bedsheets, a crisp linen shroud pulled taught and tucked under the mattress, had led me to believe she would be neurotic…

Read the full story in 3:AM Magazine. Available online here.