When I tell him autumn tastes like apples, he brings me a bright red delicious the next day, pressing it into my hand without a word.
Stories
The Tattoo by Michael Clark
Shanika had known him since she was 12. She always thought that she hated him.
Transit and Transients: Las Vegas
A familiar face entered the bus, bending like a willow tree reaching for water. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a wad of bills, slipping a $20.00 into the fare machine. “Gimme a day pass and keep the change.”
Blue
I just saw Dr. Mason. Now I know. It’s all happening too fast. Just two weeks ago, I finished training for our town’s Volunteer Fire Department. That’s when we got a call. My first. A house on fire. Neighbors said there were still people in there. We went in as best we could through the […]
A Portrait of Love
I take Mother’s picture to the dinner table every night. She smiles, still happy. I speak of my sister Nancy and Dad. Nancy’s writing. My mastering a Tchaikovsky waltz.