“It is fireworks night, and my throat is sore from faking orgasms down a phone line all afternoon. My back aches and I am cold, the air smells of caramel and gunpowder. Me and Amber are on the roof, watching the explosives climb and burst. The city is a universe. Someone, somewhere is getting burned alive.”
A story about a phone sex worker who receives an unusual call. Published in 3:AM Magazine. Read online here.