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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “Ice King” Down in the Dirt (v141) (the January 2017 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Study in Black the Down in the Dirt July-Dec. 2016 collection book		get the 418 page Jan.-April 2017 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

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Post-Split

Todd McMurray

    They were clamoring on top of him now, flowers in pale hues and splotches that blanketed the room. He seldom considered the somber, muted wallpaper of the apartment, but now he found it abhorrent as it seemed poised to consume him. The room was almost comically claustrophobic, a taut four corners of various debris that scarcely accommodated the couch he languished upon, which, in turn, scarcely accommodated him. His ample frame covered it end to end, left arm lazily outstretched to manipulate the television remote. As well, the TV was small, a non-descript black box from a bygone age. Its poor reception carved dark, hovering lines through every picture, but his tear-swollen eyes could no longer discern them. It had been exactly one hour since the argument, an explosive volley of poorly chosen words that sent her packing. Once the door had conclusively slammed behind her, he caved. All language left him and he collapsed where he was, accompanied only by the dull, blue glow of cathode rays, rays that reached out to him like phantoms. He lowered the volume as some long forgotten noir played out on the channel, reducing its whip-smart dialogue to a barely audible Morse code of muffled banter. Atop the tiny set stood a remnant, perhaps the sole reminder of her ever having occupied the same imploding space. It was a mere toy, a childhood possession of hers that, in her violent haste to exit, she had forgotten to collect. The odd thing, dog-like with wheels for paws, stared back at him. It appeared judgmental, albeit expressionless, and its red felt exterior was worn and threadbare following years of her affectionate handling. He’d have given the stars in that moment to trade places with it, if only to know the benign caress of her slender hand once again. A series of dissonant cracks split open the evening sky as a tepid rain began to fall, its evocative fragrance arriving through an open window. He conjured her delicate features in his mind, and sleep took him.

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