Violeta stretched out under the shade of the palm trees and brushed some sand from her tanned stomach. Warm…
I killed myself Friday evening in the company office.
Martha picked her way delicately across the wooden floor, doing her best to ignore the broken glass and rusted metal…
When I met Death, he was eating at a little diner on King’s St. It had been a long day working in the Southern Californian sun…
She was a drowned swan, the feathers of her wedding dress fanned out around her in the shallow water. From a distance she…
He contemplated the smooth, unbroken glass of the water, the damp wood of the boat rough against his forearms.