Fiction 1.

The job was finished, and Alice Coltrane came on the radio and told me to clean up.

Rust and mustard colored shavings were all over the floor and walls, and anywhere else a ten foot long, razor-thin piece of pen-making material could accumulate. There was no dust (I keep my tools sharp), but inside my shop, it looked like a red and yellow piñata filled with other smaller red and yellow piñatas had been obliterated by an ornery child.

I had a wide, soft broom specifically for moments like this. It’s about 6 feet long, with a big, round ash handle; the perfect size for any job that you know isn’t small.

The concrete is gray, friendly-looking, and cold.

So, I bent my gaze downwards, and got to sweeping. Just like she said.

I swept that room clean, just like she said.

Music: Alice Coltrane: Turiya & Ramakrishna.

Pierre MillerComment