In Between

An elevator, a parking lot, an empty hotel hallway, the long drive in my rather banged-up Outback as I take my daughter to and from her school on my way to and from the university where I teach downtown; these are, oddly or perhaps not so oddly, the places I feel I most belong. I’ve been leaving, joining, leaving, starting again, trying again, for at least thirty-three years. I turned fifty about a month ago.

I move from one place to another.

I tell my students when we begin to discuss short stories that in a story you don’t have…