I hang. Unpicked. Ripe yet unselected. Folded into forgotten branches that were once green, I too, have morphed, turning ripe over sunshine-filled months, metamorphosing into edible juice, a fully fledged blackberry. Wearing my best damson-rich jacket, I beam resplendently, yet,… Continue Reading
It was hot but August heat was different and the only thing that helped was laying by the pool. There was a pool in my mother’s apartment complex, one of those slabs with no lifeguard and green water bordered by… Continue Reading
“Sit still,” you say. She readjusts her hands and a smile itches at you. You resume scratching at the easel. She glares towards the right again, jaw set and back straight. It reminds you a bit of how the British… Continue Reading
“Excuse me. Mind if I smoke?” “Not at all.” “Thanks, I — oh. I didn’t realize.” “Realize?” “That you’re — never mind.” A spark, a catch, sulfur, smoke. “Funny place to see one of you.” “Is that so?” “Well, outside… Continue Reading
Shelly was cutting loose. Packing both a lightweight and midweight sweater for layering against the chill. Swigging her protein smoothie in three gulps, setting the tumbler in the dishwasher — without rinsing. “The manual says no-rinse,” Maxwell had said, “but… Continue Reading
They were seventeen, sunburned and tipsy on lukewarm cider, sprawled in long grass above Selsley Common. Below them, rooftops caught the last gold light. It smelled of warm earth and crushed cow parsley. Lina flicked a stolen lighter under a… Continue Reading
No one could say when the town started coming apart. First the mill cut shifts. Then pay. Bread got a little higher every month until people stopped pretending not to notice. Jobs vanished quietly; older workers still kept showing up… Continue Reading
Brooklyn, 2002. The air smelled like radiator steam and pan-fried American failure. The July sun bleached every brick of Crown Heights into the color of singed flesh, and the sidewalks pulsated and vibrated, as if some bastard angel beneath the… Continue Reading
Murph said it without thinking. “I don’t miss him.” The oven clicked. The coil glowed red. Heat filled the room, and she stood still in the center of the kitchen, a cold casserole dish in one hand and a dishrag… Continue Reading
Aunt Maisy used to give Luna and I lemon-flavored cough drops and tell us they were real candy, and the summer I was four and Luna was six we took the bag of cough drops off Maisy’s shelf and ate… Continue Reading