Every time we get together we cook too much, and then we eat too much. Even though our parents did their best to try and teach us proper table manners, we hunch our backs, put our elbows on the table… Continue Reading
I watched her as much as she pretended not to watch me. My little sister. Wasn’t the youngest the baby? Wasn’t she supposed to be subject to our parents’ worries? Their touches of melancholy? I remember when she would beg… Continue Reading
Sometimes there’s a moment so quiet right after the exhaled breath when there is no breath, and an interval between two lives is suddenly bridged. My name is William, Wendell or Wallace. I’m not sure which. At this moment, it… Continue Reading
I never understood crimes of opportunity until I was on that bus. It curved through the cheaper part of the city, a rundown place where even the roaches quivered at the footsteps of pedestrians. We passed in and out of… Continue Reading
For a while, Simon thought he was a tortoise too. He was green, and pretty, and liked to bask in the sun. But there was no denying the obvious: even the tortoise’s lethargic pace was faster than Simon could go.… Continue Reading
My older sister Kolt storms into the kitchen like an angry ostrich, all neck and ruffled feathers and big round eyes. Her fists are balled, her face splotchy red, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She’s barefoot. I bite… Continue Reading
I was thirteen when Daryl Harrison fell off our grain bin. Zach brought me along once to go visit him in the hospital. I remember clenching onto the plastic railing of the footboard of his bed. It all happened on… Continue Reading
“You’re such a moron.” I’m touching the steering wheel with just my fingertips, it’s so hot. “I’m a moron?” Randy laughs from the passenger seat. He hits the dash with his palm. “You’re my brother — what does that make… Continue Reading
“What time does it all kick off?” my sister asks me. At least I think that’s what she’s saying. She’s calling from another dimension, in another time. “I can barely hear you, Amelia,” I say. “You sound very far away.”… Continue Reading
“Is that a Wyndham flower?” Milton stared with some concern at the strange, semi-translucent stalk, ghastly pale and no bigger around than his thumb. It clung precariously to the handle of an old shovel resting in the corner of the… Continue Reading