Death in the Afternoon by Guy Yasko

— Bobby! Bobby! I’m home. You call Liston yet?

— Bobby?

Must be gone. Curtains closed. Sunlight through curtains, like when
you’re sick.

— oh.

No color. White? Blue? Not breathing.

What do you do when someone dies? Call 911? He’s already dead!
Chrissake. Have to call anyway? Bureaucracy of death. Police? They’d

You have a drink, that’s what you do. Mark the occasion. What though?
His stuff? Not me, not now. Not even. Stuff from Sandy: Calvados. What’s
that, Spanish? Good enough.

Got what he wanted — or did he? Spite? Escape? That’s it? Ran away from
me, now life. Fuck him. Me, this what I wanted? Don’t know. No. Not
really. Waste of my life, too. Gone now.


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Filed under Guy Yasko

7 responses to “Death in the Afternoon by Guy Yasko

  1. Guy, this is perfect. It faces head-on one of our biggest fears, one of our secret desires.

  2. I wonder who they were to each other…

  3. guy

    Thanks for the reads & feedback you two.

  4. stephen

    very interesting space.

    it reads to me like simultaneously shock/indeterminacy and shock/recognition, so to be moving in contrary directions—at the same time, the movement of the narrator through the situation is also a movement of the reader away from it, i think, because as the first dyad gives way to the second, what you reading do not know comes to replace the initial immersive engagement in the space of the piece.

    pretty slick business.

  5. guy

    Thanks, comrade. I’m flattered.

    This is whittled down from a larger piece that had been in-festering a number of my hard drives for many years. That movement isn’t in the other versions. Addition by subtraction.

  6. read this three times, wanting to know more about these two, the reason for the calvados: grief, shock, a modicum of joy. superb. peace…

  7. Pingback: Week #51 – Unintended Consequences | 52|250 A Year of Flash

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