Missy Matchstick 4/27/26 Missy Matchstick 4/27/26

Drop Zone Blonde

At a California drop zone, a woman preparing to jump alone becomes fixated on a blonde woman in dirty boots, quietly handling parachutes with unnerving ease. After the jump, the woman appears again, altered only slightly, and says exactly enough to haunt the drive back to Los Angeles.

“She seemed Built from parts of L.A. you only ever saw at 3AM: cigarette burns, sodium lamps, motel pools reflecting nothing but static.”

— Neon Déjà Vu

“L.A.’s basically’s held together by duct tape and earthquakes.”

— Under Her Frayed Hem

“The Taco Truck on Santa Monica Boulevard was a living thing.”

— Under Her Frayed Hem

“West Hollywood at noon felt like standing under a blowtorch: the kind of heat that makes the air hum, where the palm trees look plastic and the asphalt ripples like its trying to swallow itself whole.”

— Siete Cerillos Apagados

Drop Zone Blonde

Writing The California Fever Dream

“She seemed Built from parts of L.A. you only ever saw at 3AM: cigarette burns, sodium lamps, motel pools reflecting nothing but static.”

“L.A.’s basically’s held together by duct tape and earthquakes.”

“The Taco Truck on Santa Monica Boulevard was a living thing.”

“West Hollywood at noon felt like standing under a blowtorch: the kind of heat that makes the air hum, where the palm trees look plastic and the asphalt ripples like its trying to swallow itself whole.”

a love letter with a lit match tucked inside ♡

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