In June 2018 I made a discovery that I shared something with my dad. These letters serve as a way to explore and connect our shared experience. Chris and Christin…
for lillaree she was getting her doctorate on the last island she owns in my memory’s receding fogbank. it’s been thirteen years and i’d always figured she’d be dead by…
one day, my mother stops coming down for dinner. she goes to a place not even my father can drag her back from, sleeping day after day in my brother’s…
Between contractions, Annabelle watched the shadows flicker across the ceiling. Candles were impractical for an event such as this, but the electricity had gone out yet again, and the Morrison…
I sat across from him, shooting his portrait with my phone. His charcoal sweatshirt faded into the dark booth. He played tic-tac-toe in the dim light. I should have known…
When I glanced down and saw my body, the suffering, damaged girl. My beloved, nowhere to be found had died on impact. Now the ER doctors say I can go…
