Poetry. Flash Fiction. Adam Peterson's THE FLASHER explores the oddity and myth of being an individual in sixty cross genre micro-narratives. The flasher character is a product of his own sensitive disposition—his desire for connection, his fear of abandonment, nudity and isolation. He projects these anxieties onto a woman baker in dramatic fashion.
What stands out most is not the incident itself, but the essay’s quiet insistence that our need to judge quickly says more about us than about the person we’re judging.
I am a huge fan, so much so that I heard Adam read a wonderful flash piece and I begged him to let me publish it. Stunning vision. Fun. Just the right amount of torque. Some of my favorites here:
"Soon, the lake drowns in the bathtub where his trench coat billows as the water rises."
"He's that hung coat."
"The turtle is intractably alone."
"The opposite of yesterday is not tomorrow."
"My favorite smell would have to be apple juice spit onto gravel."