Well, at least he’s happy.
I wasn’t expecting a visit from my teenaged, road-working son, but here he is, leaning into a half-eaten, torn-into loaf of walnut-wheat bread, butter disappearing quickly. His bent arms are long enough to eclipse the entire side of my kitchen table, effectively blocking me out. Yes, of course I fed my kid. You always feed your kid. They never completely grow up, not in your eyes. Continue reading
Maximilian munched on his last MLT sandwich. The sun set over the mesa he lived atop. Years ago, it’d split away – like magic! – as the surrounding continent had sunk under the ocean. The sheep dwindled, while lettuce, tomatoes, and wheat thrived. Continue reading
Alana shifted, quick step and stomp, nearly stumbling. A drop of sweat ran down the powerful slope of her nose, around the edge of her nostril, and dangled, tickling and stinging. She blew once, twice, and the drop sailed into endless blue skies, evaporating in the shearing heat. Continue reading
He stuck his head in the refrigerator, resting his arm along the damp, dusty edge of the door. Plucking at the ruffles of insulation, he surveyed the interior. It certainly felt cooler in there than it did in his apartment. Continue reading
She heard the thick slide and click of the deadbolt being twisted open. Her arms full of groceries, Julie turned her back to the door and pushed with her shoulders, but it would not give. Continue reading