Westwood Elementary student arrested with gun at school. No injuries. Phones ding and buzz mid-meeting with the news alert. Sharp breaths and low groans ricochet around the table. Everyone turns to me. Westwood is my son Kiel’s school. Naturally, I… Continue Reading
How could anyone sleep through that? He sounded like an asthmatic chainsaw. The sound wasn’t the worst of it, though. It was those gaps, when the sound ceased, where she hoped that maybe, just maybe he’d stopped — snoring, breathing.… Continue Reading
I sat, staring at the empty pleather bench on the other side of the table, washing my huevos rancheros down with crafty beer and glancing at the clock on my iPhone. It had been fifteen minutes since he went outside… Continue Reading
Five doors, crooked with age. Each morning, full bladder and all, I curse them during my tiptoe walk from our street-facing bedroom to the bathroom hiding in the shadows at the back. It is an old place, this new home… Continue Reading
The strangest thing anyone’s ever told me was that I reminded them of a Ruffles sour cream and onion potato chip. That’s right, a Ruffles sour cream and onion potato chip. It happened my third year of college. A classmate… Continue Reading