Drive me away on your motorcycle, black like night when it’s warm, and spin us onto the freeway. Above the engine roar you’ll ask if I remembered my dress. When the sun rises we’ll reach Reno. There, you’ll dance me over dizzying casino carpet because you have brought the rings and I’ve left behind coffee in the pot and there is no way the world can get us now. We’re pronounced, you take my face in your hands, kiss me like I’m a souvenir, and I’ll close my eyes, think: Good lord in heaven, I hope this baby’s yours.
Jules Archer writes flash fiction in Arizona. Her work has appeared in SmokeLong Quarterly, >kill author, Pank, The Butter, Maudlin House, and elsewhere. She likes to smell old books and drink red wine. Her chapbook ALL THE GHOSTS WE’VE ALWAYS HAD is out from Thirty West Publishing.
Artwork by: Natalia Drepina
Natalia Drepina was born in Lipetsk, Russia. She is a self-taught photographer who specializes in emotional female portrait photography. She takes photographs since 2009. Her style is characterized by the bleakness, fragility and minor mood of the past.