Meaghan drew deep on her cigarette, pinching its stub between thumb and forefinger. She could pull a Houdini and just disappear, but in this case, with this guy, she knew he deserved better. Continue reading
“Strange men. Is there any other kind?” she sighed, scanning the row of heavy, shaggy heads bent over the bar rail. Continue reading
Mavis counted on it: No decision, no responsibility.
Mavis lifted a brow. “Do we let ‘em in the boat?” Continue reading
Silence all around, but for the slow creak of frogs from the moonlit marsh, and the crackle and sudden pop from the dwindling campfire. A late night wind twined soothing fingers through the dark pines, but hesitated and hovered above the group gathered below.
This is my portion of the eulogies written for my dad, Kjeld Oddvar Husebye, born August 11, 1925 and died January 2, 2015, after a very long struggle with cancer.