A Hatred of Clubbing that Transcends Generations

[liberally adapted from reality] The house was silent save for the flickering of some distant infomercial blasting through the two am airwaves: a direct transmission of nothingness from the autocorrected perfection of the studio right into Dad's vacant, tired eyes. He heard me stagger in, heels clicking away across the linoleum. Each clacking step came … Continue reading A Hatred of Clubbing that Transcends Generations