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Behind the Truth Door and some Pics from LA

  I’m sitting with my back against the truth door. It’s a wooden green door without a handle and the Mexican that sold it to us parted with it easily. The U-Haul truck shakes at sixty and we’re doing sixty-five

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1 Truth Road [Jim #1, Short Fiction]

“Pizza? I didn’t think there’d be pizza in heaven,” Jim said. “Why not? Pizza is the shit,” the angel said. “And cursing. And beer? Is that beer?” In fact, the table was laid out with all the things Jim loved.

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