GABRIEL
LUCATERO
A QUICK BACKGROUND
FICTION, REVIEWS, AND REAL TALK.
Sunday started like a bad decision dressed as a good idea. I had drinks in Carpinteria with friends and flooded the place with laughter; it was a dangerous kind of…
I’m hungover. Not “a little tired.” I mean, hungover like my skull is full of wet cement and regret. My mouth tastes like stale booze and bad decisions. I’m moving…
Some weeks move quietly, while others drag old ghosts through the door, whether you invited them or not. This was one of those weeks. Sunday started with something simple: rest,…
I remember the first time I saw my reflection and didn’t quite believe it was me. Not in the teenage-angst, identity-crisis kind of way. I mean literally. I stared at…