Flash fiction from Peter Kelly about angst and midnight. Read it. Swallow.

A character in the air, Falstaff or Juan Otero, rapping at the window. Their breath curdles within the inferno of my throat. Paralyzed by ogling cherubim under glass, leering at the tottering oaf I have become, the addition of a millennium. This landscape is a sieve over a beaker of mixed gases leaving its silty [...]