Fiction: Bruh

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It was late July, those days in Chicago when summer is past its prime and everybody’s waiting around for a bit of fun. I was sitting on the concrete steps out back watching him at the grill.

You’re burning those burgers, bruh.

Naw, watch. The outsides’ll be a little burnt but the insides’ll be perfect.

Yeah but we can still taste the outside and it’ll taste burnt as hell.

Cajun-style. He laughed.

I smiled at him, salty droplets sparkling on his broad brown forehead.

You wanna man the grill then?

Nigga. I’m a guest.

I took a swig of my Makers Mark and Dr. Pepper. His two huskies pawed at an old dead possum, above them the cicadas were singing at full pitch as warm wind blew through the green leaves like hot breath.

He looked up at the sky. Big puffy white mountains slowly rising, swelling.

Looks like it’s gonna rain.

Read the rest of the story at Hobart


Featured image: Ginny/Flickr

Hector is the editor and publisher of Enclave. A Chicago writer now floating on the edge of Las Vegas, he is also the former deputy editor for Latino Rebels, as well as the former managing editor for Gozamos, a Latino art-activism site based in his home town. He has contributed to RedEye, a Chicago daily geared toward millennials, and La Respuesta, a New York-based site for the Puerto Rican Diaspora, plus a number of publications, including The Huffington Post. He studied history (for some reason) at the University of Illinois-Chicago, where his focus was on ethnic relations in the United States.

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