He threw strawberries at birds to explain existentialism. So it went for the narrator of the story I read. I gazed out the window, snow on the ground.
In the street, a man pushed a cart full of batteries. His beard bluish. He could warm up with me, drink instant coffee.
I could tell him about the strawberries; they symbolized our actions. But the man in the street was heading somewhere.
Who was I to keep him?
Craig Buchner’s writing has appeared in Tin House, Chicago Quarterly Review, Baltimore Review, Puerto del Sol, and the Cincinnati Review, among others. In 2006, his work won the AWP Intro Journals Award for Fiction. Raised in rural New York, Craig went on to complete a MFA from the University of Idaho before relocating to Portland, Oregon, where he is finishing a novel and a collection of poetry.
