I opened the door to see who’d been knocking and saw just the same few brooms and old jugs of bleach, huddled in the corners of the closet.
Daniel Galef and David Galef have been writing stories in Nanoism for ten years.
Slim jim and mini whisky bagged, the buzzing fluorescence of 7-11 numbs me. A two-faced sign labels the outside world CLOSED. I believe it.
Daniel Galef has sunken to shameful déps.
At the textile mill she marveled as a bobbin spun so fast it blurred into a fuzzy, ghostly ball. Her two ancient sisters looked on uneasily.
Daniel Galef spinnt doch.
Slots, vid-poker, peepshows—I thumbed dirty bills into every machine but the kitschy Zoltar. It didn’t take a crystal ball to see my future.
@DanielGalef lets it ride.
In the lighthouse it was so easy to be good. Light the fire, watch the white sails slide safely along. But now I know what was on the ships.
Daniel Galef is ancient, but no mariner.
The topless towers toppled. The golden temple folded into the sea. In the ash a child was drawing with her finger, the design of a palace.
Daniel Galef (@DanielGalef) is lost to history.
P.S. The documents are enclosed. P.P.S. I have double-checked the signatures; I didn’t miss anything this time. P.P.P.S. I love you.
Daniel Galef (@DanielGalef) is a Montreal-based writer of poetry, humor, and fiction currently attending McGill University.
You left your briefcase on the table, so I brought it into the office.
I would like to speak to you when you get home.
Daniel Galef (@DanielGalef) is a person of letters, and also some tweets.
On the date, he noted four distinct verbal tics. Afterward she added to the tip he left. Both wondered what their friends had been thinking.
Daniel Galef (@DanielGalef) is trying to write longer and worse.
They said there was something new in her paintings afterward—something new in her old paintings. Context, maybe. Regret. And the faces.
Daniel Galef is landscape-oriented.