by Litsa Dremousis
Mia flipped on the light and Casey contracted like a starfish. “At least you’re wearing pants this time,” she said. She strode across her tiny living room and sat next to him on the couch. Casey hoisted himself up, then put his arms around her. Mia relaxed a bit and laid her head on his shoulder, figuring she might as well make use of him while he was there. She wished he weren’t so cavalier with his key privileges, though, and that he were kind enough to turn into an egg roll.
Litsa Dremousis' work appears in The Believer, BlackBook, Bookmarks, Esquire, Filter, Hobart, McSweeney's, Monkeybicycle, MovieMaker, Nylon, Paper, Paste, Pindeldyboz, Poets and Writers, Seattle Magazine, Seattle Sound, the Seattle Weekly, and on NPR.