{"id":3759,"date":"2013-02-04T19:17:41","date_gmt":"2013-02-04T19:17:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sporkpress.com\/?p=3759"},"modified":"2013-02-04T19:17:41","modified_gmt":"2013-02-04T19:17:41","slug":"enemies-by-simon-jacobs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/2013\/02\/04\/enemies-by-simon-jacobs\/","title":{"rendered":"Enemies by Simon Jacobs"},"content":{"rendered":"

Not once in our lives have we ever been city people. \u201cYou\u2019ll love it,\u201d the agent said to us, \u201cIt\u2019s the penthouse. Lots of studio space.\u201d
\n     We\u2019ve been in this apartment almost two months now. It\u2019s the longest we\u2019ve ever been anywhere. We don\u2019t know how to populate these spaces, our landing strip of a living room.
\n     One day I find you standing naked with your arms outstretched in front of the wall-sized window that looks out over everything.
\n     The sun plays over your knobby shoulder. When I come up and touch it, you scream and I\u2019m suddenly worried the glass won\u2019t hold anything in or out. \u201cWhy are you standing like that?\u201d
\n     \u201cRelax,\u201d you say. \u201cWe\u2019re too high up for anyone to see me.\u201d
\n     \u201cHave you been eating?\u201d Even I can tell you\u2019re much too skinny.
\n     You gesture to the birds pecking at the sill outside. \u201cThey need it more than I do.\u201d
\n     When we finally do go out, I drown the bathroom attendant in the sink while you send back the food. His shoes kick and scuff the varnished wood of the bathroom door. Your earrings really light up your face but I only know one thing to do when someone sneaks up behind me.
\n     I stare out the window at the city the whole way home and wonder which of us is worse adjusted.
\n     When the cab lets us off at the curb the driver keeps his palm out for a second too long after I\u2019ve paid him and I instinctively break one of his fingers. He squeals, and as he hauls off you say, \u201cSee. This is exactly why we can\u2019t go anywhere.\u201d
\n     We walk the remaining five blocks to our apartment. I watch your legs; you make sure to avoid getting too close to the storefronts, the edge of the sidewalk. Actually by the time our building creeps into view, we\u2019re practically running.
\n     I don\u2019t tell you about the bathroom attendant until a few nights later, when we\u2019re in bed under our giant window.
\n     You stare up at the dark shapes crossing over the moon. \u201cWe have to move again.\u201d
\n     \u201cNo we don\u2019t. No one saw anything.\u201d
\n     \u201cThey\u2019re going to find us.\u201d
\n     I kiss the side of your head. \u201cThey won\u2019t.\u201d
\n     \u201cYou always say that. And then they always do.\u201d
\n     It\u2019s true. I always say that. I remember the teary glare of the cab driver, the lingering glance of the maitre d\u2019, the squint of the storekeeper when I buy our groceries once a week. I pull you into my neck. You nibble a little. \u201cNo one is looking for us,\u201d I say. \u201cWe\u2019re safe here.\u201d
\n     At length we agree to wait it out. No one comes, but as time passes our window starts to feel more and more like an eye in rather than out.
\n     Meanwhile, the birds that come by and land on the sill are getting bigger every single day.
\n     
\n     
\n\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013
\nSimon Jacobs<\/strong> is a fitful young writer from Ohio. He curates the Safety Pin Review<\/a> – a wearable medium for work of less than 30 words – and may be found here<\/strong><\/a>. He dreams of one day furnishing a small place of his own.
\n     <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Not once in our lives have we ever been city people. \u201cYou\u2019ll love it,\u201d the agent said to us, \u201cIt\u2019s the penthouse. Lots of studio space.\u201d      We\u2019ve been in this apartment almost two months now. It\u2019s the longest we\u2019ve ever been anywhere. We don\u2019t know how to populate these spaces, our landing strip of a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,3,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3759","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-fiction","category-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3759","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3759"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3759\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3759"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3759"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3759"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}