The memories are strongest when you sit across from me, knee to knee. We close the circle and hold the moments between us like trapped…
I didn’t want to be with Vick. But it was only temporary and it’s not like I had a choice, what with the “below…
The labor of my love for you resides in weary bones, in the dark circles beneath my eyes, and in the ways my body aches…
When walking, Uncle Pug’s crutches went huff-plat, huff-plat, telling us he was coming. Two loud crutches made up for one dead leg. Tee cut…
Jasmine felt a sharp jolt of pain as her ankle rolled beneath her, twisting her foot at an awkward angle and sending her…
Read the rest of the “West” saga: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
“Is that Trent?” Allison asks, pointing at the only picture remaining on the kitchen wall.
Continued from The Violent Acts of Poets, Part I & Part II
The floorboards wheeze with each step, an asthmatic echo through the attic. Grace nudges a flimsy cardboard box with her toe…