Agnes scratched her head with her pencil, slipped it into the bun on the back of her head, and reached in her pocket to count out her tips for the night. “Yes, Arthur, Mickey’s still here, still waiting for Delores.” Continue reading
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Dog Days and a Purple Moon
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
Valley of the Trolls 