James A. Reeves

A writer and designer in the Middle West who makes midnight mix tapes and writes about faith in the digital age.

Conspiracy

My mind turns gullible in the small hours, ready to believe anything.

Maybe you’ve heard the soliloquies of sunburnt men who mutter at the traffic.

Just after midnight, a metallic voice began to flicker through the radio static.

We check the death tally each morning like the weather report.

Notes on surviving the 21st century and a mixtape delivered ’round midnight on the 1st and 15th of the month.