”—Osamu Dazai, The Setting SunBy the time Lacie left, the rest of the pod had begun to arrive. Cindy and I needed to get some practice in for our ...ew set. We’d record at Joan’s mother’s house next weekend and release it to patrons on the twenty-third. We’d decided to play this set from music when we recorded rather than from memory. We needed memory freed up for important things, like the concert tour in December. By late afternoon, those of us who had been wearing clothes had lost them and we. It was at that moment that Y gave out under him, her legs shuddering. The last thing he saw was the door closing behind this mysterious and yet seemingly…sexual woman. Ryan and Charlotte, which he’d learned was her name as she straightened her dress parted ways. Ryan chose to stay behind disposing of his condom, pulling up his pants, and staring up the now seemingly quiet staircase. For some reason he felt compelled to climb the stairs, drawn by the image of that woman. Black hair cascading. More

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