Fugues Fiction Archive

“I turned back to my own plate. The fresh eggs were a delicacy after makeshift campfire meals in Africa and drive-throughs at home. Burger Death, I remembered Charlie saying when we were little, and I grinned around the forkful of fluffy omelette. Mulder cut his eyes at me, smirking, and nudged me with his elbow.” Post-Amor Fati. Rated R. (45 K)

Marguerite, ”ELI ELI”