The sun was a memory, the road a straight line swallowed by an empty horizon. This relic of a rental was so old, the radio was one speaker, with five buttons and a dial to select AM stations. Too late even for radio ministry, too early for the farm report; Continue reading “October Road”
He holds out his hand
Groom to the beautiful bride
Their joy is unmatched
Nita traced the path of a seagull, as it tipped and bounced through the harbor breeze, noting its resemblance to the whitecaps further out and closer to the breakwater. There’s a reminder there, she thought, that a thing is not always as it seems at first glance. Continue reading “Dog Days and a Purple Moon”
She shifted her hips, attempting to get comfortable. Elbows on the counter, chin on fist, she gazed at the display, attempting to suss out meaning from the frothy spill of words. All gibberish. She sighed. Continue reading “First Flight”
Pace the living room, arms hugging my chest. My growling belly needs comfort and protection, not for need of nourishment, but because it craves. Outside, snow drives sidewise, piling up outside the doors, gathering in dark window corners. Continue reading “Surviving the Storm”
Chad scrunched his brow, tapping the turntable with a desultory forefinger. The sculpture rotated slowly, displaying all its sides, seeming to delight in its own ineffable shimmer and elegance. It almost winked at him, whispering “You don’t get me, do you?” Continue reading “The Wheel Turns”
Her voice went on and on, whining and cackling and blaming. Peter knew she spoke out of deep unhappiness, a defensive sense of irrelevance to the rest of the world. She deserved some compassion. Continue reading “Clock’s Ticking”
Hot and humid.
Hot and humid and COVID.
So much so, that folks are divided on whether to wear masks or not, and what the actual distance of six feet looks like: whether distance is different in an enclosed space versus an open space, whether the current air filtration system is adequate to dispel the exhalations (the coronavirus soup), whether six feet is buffer enough when one is active, whether adding a drink or two to the mix makes for exponential risk… Continue reading “Six Months Ago…”