Food is more than nourishment. You can survive on boiled spelt and fried dandelion greens, but that’s like driving the freeway in a wheelchair. Chili, Stella told me, is one of those dishes that come on like a runaway truck… Continue Reading
Beyond the mangled guardrail, the ground dropped steeply away, a mile down to the valley floor. Dan stepped toward it, heart pounding. When he was a child, Dan’s father told him guardrails were braces for roads. They kept all the… Continue Reading
Travis crashed into the tree as gently as he could because this time he actually wasn’t trying to kill himself. He also didn’t want to get another DWI, so this was probably the first Saturday night since Freshman year of… Continue Reading
He still has the taste of champagne in his mouth, this taste of apples cut with a rusty knife. His fingers are numb as they curl around the steering wheel, the smooth plastic steadying the slight tremor in his hands… Continue Reading
The fat man approached with a package wrapped in a blanket under his arm. Mick took one more drag, dropped his cigarette, and ground the butt into the pavement with the heel of his shoe. He moved his head slightly, just a… Continue Reading
“Dad, there’s a car in the driveway,” Andy said. I turned my attention away from the evening newspaper I was reading and walked into kitchen to join him. Sure enough, there was a car in our driveway. It wasn’t my… Continue Reading