Lakeside Elementary is on the edge of our neighborhood, right by the Piggly Wiggly. It isn’t anywhere near a lake, thankfully. There is only one natural lake in Texas. Halfway in Texas, really, and honestly, it’s only still there because… Continue Reading
I’ve been acting for so long that sometimes I forget where the act ends and I begin. I learned early how to look like the man people wanted: the right tone, the right posture, the right kind of silence. No… Continue Reading
As I struggled to repair my son’s bicycle, I thought of my dad. Years ago, he built me an entire bike from parts, assembling each piece while drinking a beer or two in the garage. One night, I brought out… Continue Reading
On the day in question, I’m perusing the grapefruits at my supermarket. I make sure I pick only a grapefruit clearly stickered “Star Ruby.” Meaning it’s not a pink grapefruit. Meaning it’s not an apricot. Meaning it’s not a bran… Continue Reading
Planning his next escape from Springbrook Retirement Home, George wakes early, just as the first-shift staff start their rounds, so it isn’t surprising he is the only resident to observe Fred leave, zipped into a body bag, covered with a… Continue Reading
Two dark-haired girls with makeup to match, and look, they’ve found something. An oeil-de-boeuf at the gable admitted a circle of afternoon light that fell on nothing and illuminated even less, catching only the turn of dust motes. Mary pressed… Continue Reading
Lately, Lucie woke with the ability to hear the thoughts of strangers. Restaurants and buses were the loudest places. No one said what they meant, but they thought it awfully loud. Now, waiting at a table among a crowd that… Continue Reading
Tuesday morning Affie walks into class with her arm wrapped in a white cloth. A bruise darkens her cheekbone. Cuts run across her palms. Her shirt is wrinkled and her short hair sticks up. “Julie,” she says, waving as sunlight… Continue Reading
The sun had long disappeared behind the ridgeline, leaving behind a faded orange smear in the western sky. Autumn in the highlands of the North feels like something older than time — earth and air whisper in ways words have… Continue Reading
I was sitting at the bar with my supervisor, Maggie, still the prettiest person I’ve ever known. Our elbows rested on the counter, arms like toothpicks holding up tired heads, drinks tucked beneath our chins. We spun those tiny black… Continue Reading