Creative Nonfiction

However, the real portable ones are situated in our pockets, waiting for a vibration or a text tone so they can be pulled out and fixed in front of our slavering faces.

I swear my neighbor’s aim in life is to deprive me of peace and quiet. 

The empty road populates itself with the traffic of my nostalgia, and every mile is a memory.

To my assailants, / I have not forgotten You.