“You ever go on YouTube to see what Anderson Cooper said last night, but you end up watching some girl in her bedroom giving a review of a Black Keys album instead? It happens to the best of us. I kept on watching it anyway, probably ‘cause I was stoned out of my mind, and you know what? She actually made some good points. She talked about how much the Black Keys had evolved since their last album and even brought in some music theory I couldn’t understand. I don’t know. It was good, bro. It reminds me of reading articles in Rolling Stone when I was a kid. But the crazy part is – I click on her profile afterwards, just to see what else she’d reviewed, and there were no other videos. Just the one about the Black Keys. And it makes me wonder what happened. Did she get a bad comment? Did she lose interest in reviews? Were there just not enough views? I mean it’s sad, man. Because she was good at it. And cute too.”

Bobby didn’t say anything – just starred at the TV as Steph Curry stepped back and pulled up for another three.

But it made me think about how many other dreams died like that. Died before they were ever given the chance to take off. Like cats crossing the street in rush-hour traffic. Or like a rabbit losing its race. I took a sip off my beer and watched Curry drain another three. Millions of dreams must have died just because there wasn’t a soul in the world that pressed play on a screen somewhere. The TV grew louder as the game cut to commercial.

“Were you saying something man?” Bobby asked taking a long swig off his beer.​   

“Nah, man,” I said taking another sip. “Nothing at all. Curry sure is on fire tonight.”



Phoenix DeSimone: I am am emerging writer and automobile mechanic from Virginia. My work has been published in Rat’s Ass Review, Horror Sleaze Trash, Cough Syrup Magazine, Avalon Literary Review and Children, Churches and Daddies.