There are many objects and concepts that require specific gods to oversee their life and use. But nothing has ever needed a god as badly as parking lots. At least, that is what the God of Parking Lots kept repeating to himself, to make up for a generally ignored existence.
They lived on the unnecessary planet doing unnecessary things and were generally unnecessary people. It happens like that some times, when the universe produces things both really great and little enough to be superfluous.
She was the best actress in the world -- the star of the silver screen -- the sun of the golden stage. She was so exact, so convincing in disappearing into her characters that the imaginary world she created became more precise and real than the real world she lived in.
It wasn't something he expected to happen on such a dreary drizzly day, but he did, in fact, come to understand the meaning of life. And it wasn't one of those drunken enlightenments. No, this was the real thing.
While the word counts of Alex Epstein's "microfictions" may rarely reach triple digits, the stories from his new collection, For My Next Illusion I Will Use Wings, occupy the space of something much larger.