The Price of Youth
by K.Z. Morano
I was a rotting fruit… fattening flies… waiting to be harvested by death.
I stared at the mirror as the maggots of old age consumed me. 81 more words
The clock hanging in his office was a perfectly-preserved, Art Deco, General Electric Luxochron. Its bronze, metal-flake paint glowed richly in the lowest light and the creamy vellum clockface provided perfect contrast to the authoritative iron hands that pointed out the hour and minute with precision. 408 more words