Two Fictions
Kim Chinquee

Slot Machine

She watches rolls falling, at a man who looks like a potato. Her stepfather used to come here. He died. He spent millions. There's oxygen and dinging. She gets behind the wheel of a very nice car.

Podium

She follows wood chips, the sounds of birds and rustling branches. She finds him waiting on the log. His father is the pastor. He leans over, kisses her. She has never kissed a boy. His lips taste gooey, like mint and chocolate and cherry. His upper lip is fuzzy. He curls his hand, tracing her. He opens her shirt and she feels curious and dangerous and funny. He cups her breast and tells her it feels stunning. "Yeah, I know," she says. She listens to his father. He's the preacher, Jesus Christ.

1996 © 2006