The first time I felt Amy standing behind me after she died, I was making her signature hot chocolate — the kind that requires three separate acts of faith: dark chocolate melted slow as sunrise, milk chocolate stirred until it… Continue Reading
I’m alone now. Heavy rain hits the windshield. It rains like this more and more. It didn’t use to. He was my only friend. It was late when I picked him up and he’d been drinking and wanted to sleep… Continue Reading
It was a good year for flowers. My parents’ flower farm was small petunias compared to the big players in the game, but it provided a decent living for them and me and my brothers. We didn’t have the massive… Continue Reading
They found Jenny Wheeler’s body near the tracks on a Saturday. A sunny morning tragedy. That Monday, Glenn came to school with a list of theories in his pocket. Rob Cousin’s name was listed three times and underlined in gruesome… Continue Reading
Madison didn’t sit in her usual spot by the window. She didn’t say anything to Sophia about the video she’d sent her of Charli vomiting in the girl’s bathroom. Elijah didn’t announce his late entry to class with raised hands… Continue Reading
When she realised the neighbours weren’t home, she rushed to wash the windows. Shegathered a bucket, the latex-free gloves, a couple of rags and the squeegee. She filled the bucketwith warm water, squirted washing up liquid in and disturbed the… Continue Reading
It was a cold October day when Lily told me she was going to die. I still remember the chill of the wind on my face as I looked up at her in surprise. A moment before I had been… Continue Reading
I’m trying to make the dead fit on one page. A wheelchair handle is cropped. In the photo of Maude wearing a pink lei at a cookout, the mountainous background gets a buzzcut, a tight green fade. My mouse drags… Continue Reading
I could picture it clearly. I’d hear her squeaky-trainer footsteps on the landing. She’d put her head round my bedroom door. She’d widen her eyes at me — her version of a smile, an ‘I’m-glad-to-see-you, let-me-take-you-in’ sort of gesture. She’d… Continue Reading
“I don’t understand poetry,” Sam told Leonard, his best friend since elementary school. “Yeah. Who does?” Leonard replied, chuckling. The two of them were sitting in lawn chairs in Sam’s back yard, watching the barbeque fire get hot enough for… Continue Reading