It’s just a field—unwatered but mowed—running ragged into September through August’s scorch. The field mocks the green, manicured lawns bordering it that have been tended by migrant workers on hands…
Paper Doll Tales Posts
It’s the third day of school, and my ten-year-old daughter is in tears. She missed the school bus despite being ready and waiting. She had appeared in the kitchen an…
My mantra is two words on a fading yellow notecard. Truth: I’ve lost the card. Or, Truth: I’ve lost the motivation to go look for the card. I’m pretty sure…
The book pages have turned beige, and I don’t remember them starting off beige. They’ve gone beige the way re-run TV shows from the 90s have gone grainy and the…
Heights bother me, not claustrophobia. What would I do—I question my interior self—wedged in a dark space, say in a cave, beneath the earth, confined, constricted, and suffocated by stone?…
He had the lesson time wrong. 4:30. He arrived earlier. He remembered his violin. He remembered his music. He waited in the hallway, and a girl scooted in before him,…