George watches Murial slurp pea soup. Murial’s wheelchair faces him from across the nursing home cafeteria filled with residents eating their lunch. Murial’s gray hair shines, but her brown eyes are vacant, and her thin lips hang open. The soup… Continue Reading
Darlene sits in the kitchen wide-eyed and happy as I feed her. I spoon the mashed carrots into her mouth and she takes them. Occasionally, I make a little airplane flight path with the spoon and a vroom sound she… Continue Reading
I exited the funeral home. Outside, the summer sky was orange and blue. Cars honked every other minute, as they usually did downtown. The air smelled of gardenias, piss, and weed. A handful of my cousins were crouched behind bushes… Continue Reading
He sits down next to me at the picnic table, his back against the red-and-white checkered tabletop, his long legs extending out on the grass. He turns to me and smiles the friendly smile of a man who is comfortable… Continue Reading
Willy woke up early that morning. It was going to be a big day. He looked around the room for his uniform, but couldn’t find it, so he put on the same clothes he had worn yesterday. It didn’t matter,… Continue Reading
We zig-zag along a crooked stone bridge towards the tavern. Mist blankets the water, which is riotous with koi, though it’s a clear day elsewhere — a hologrammic projection of the weather from hundreds of years ago. Our daughter, Ruyi,… Continue Reading
Evening sunlight leaks through curtains and blankets the floor in soft, gold light. It flows across Buddy’s fluffy blonde fur, granting him the warm summer naps he loves so much. Minutes pass and hints of purple and orange take the… Continue Reading
“See you on Friday at The Jac!” Nancy yells from the back of the black cab before it rattles away down Old Dale Street, rear lights hazy through the mizzle. My raised hand falters mid-air as I take in what… Continue Reading
From across the street, Phil watched the wind blow Stanley’s few downy, white hairs horizontal. It yanked open his union-logoed jacket and flapped the sides like the wings of a flightless bird. Stanley’s son — Bobby? Billy? Barry? Something like… Continue Reading
Paul stared at his wife across the table, noticing for the first time that her sweater was on inside out. Every morning he would lay out her clothes on the bed in a specific order, so she’d know which item… Continue Reading