Author: Greg Burgas

The copier needed toner. “What is toner, anyway?” asked Kurt, scratching his pate through his thinning hair. I told him. No one wanted to replace the toner, because no one …

The old man tried to remember how long he had been running through the routine. Every day, up at six, a breakfast of a slice of toast, a glass of …

She held the rock in her hand like a wounded animal. A voice in her head told her to throw it. It sang lively songs to her about victory over …