First Book of Lasts
In what order are events stored in our memories? My brain edits our days down to scrapbook snapshots: our brown legs, entwined on a...
Waiting Room
Sunlight streamed through the window and followed the old man. Five measured steps. Pivot. Five more the opposite direction. Repeat. He...
Susan’s Gone
“I can’t leave her now, she’s already gone.” Dad gets up and fiddles with the kettle. He fills it with more water, even though our cups...