Short fiction — The crickets and frogs and all the other nighttime things were rustling the air with sounds that somehow fit together only in the darkness. They sat on an old wicker chair, her on his lap. There were two chairs on the concrete slab in the rear of the small house…

A year ago at this time, I was stocking the shelves of a nearby grocery store in exchange for $12.69 an hour and an allotment of all the leftover produce that was good enough to eat but too ugly to sell. After a 16 year relationship, my ex partner ghosted…

Short fiction — The carpet in the closet always felt cooler to the touch than in his bedroom, especially in the balm of summer. The wispy fibers that weren’t worn down by the daily tread were upright and softer, too. When he laid his head down and his ear pressed into the floor…

Short fiction — When I saw her again she was getting high behind the fraternity houses. She was standing by a tree, walking around it in circles to avoid the spray of the rotating lawn sprinkler. Her timing was excellent. The entire action looked synchronized and reasonable. Her hair was in a…

A partial memoir on life, love, and surviving the worst — The current idiom bandied about for the root cause of all terrible behavior is narcissism. I’m agnostic about whether that label applies to the people whom I need to overcome. What I know of my own shadow is that we are all capable of needing something and susceptible to hoping…

Short fiction — The windows to the house were opened and that was as close to air conditioning as the structure knew. The little breeze that was matriculating through the screens carried the dust of a field downwind that was being tilled. On the table were dinner plates that some would have considered…

Short fiction — The smell of whiskey emanated from floorboards with an otherwise unremarkable history. It was a shitkicker bar where the hard heels of boots had shuffled back and forth enough to eradicate any hope of clean distinction. That was the charm of the place, if there is such a component to…

Short fiction — John was close to sleep. The hammock was swaying just enough to make it feel like a mother’s love. The ocean hummed a washing in and out noise from the background that was loud enough to override the minutia of questions which found voice during a standard day. …

Short fiction — The strength with which he pulled open the doors to the emergency room was aided by the ferocity of adrenaline that peaks when all feels precariously close to lost. He was striding for the desk with unblinking blue eyes that looked like a glacier fading to the ocean. “Where’s she…