flâneur

Waxwing Literary Journal: American writers & international voices.

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The fumes came in the night. Filtered through the cracks in our windows, the creaks in our floorboards, like malignant moonlight. And the roaches dropped dead mid-scuttle, and the lizards that shuffled across the whitewashed walls unleashed their tails, believing they would regrow them.❡

The Ogres Among Us Mandy Moe Pwint Tu The fumes came in the night. Filtered through the cracks in our windows, the creaks in our floorboards, like malignant moonlight. And the roaches dropped dead mid-scuttle, and the lizards that shuffled across the whitewashed walls unleashed their tails, believing they would regrow them. Our cats crowed, their throats crackling to resemble human vocal cords, and we woke, briefly, in the night, but smelled nothing, heard only the softest thuds of insectile and reptilian bodies falling to the ground. We found them in the morning, the linoleum littered with fl

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