I have a small flash story in the June issue of Ghost Parachute. This story came about in a workshop with Kristen Arnett on writing about place. She had us describe a place we love, and I, the lower middle-class suburbanite, chose to write about my garage.
This is also a part of a larger chapbook/tiny-novel/single-long-ass-story thing I recently finished / will rewrite soon? It’s all one giant auto-fiction surrealist tale about a version of me that would exist if I didn’t have my wife.
This occurs about halfway through.
You can read “Up… Up… and…” here.