When all the contents of the naughty drawer were spilled on the bed, the lone child covered himself with a bottle of suntan lotion missing its label. He brought the black bottle out to the front lawn where all the children of the neighborhood took turns lubing themselves. They found a tarp and a house. Then they ran as fast as they could, slipping and sliding with childhood.

Nco
Philipe Nicolini. Enjoys writing about his rural upbringing in California's San Joaquin Valley. Once sold into educational slavery in Tokyo, now rinsing his days in Seattle; Nco works by night. In the night there is calm.

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