When my father left us, my mother became a panther, her eyes slow from medication, hunting an answer the rooms couldn’t give her. She was angry, but didn’t…
Why is it so stubbornly in winter? Drifts everywhere, salt shortage. For the men hawking roses in morning rush, nowhere to stand but the street — they’re gonna get…
They do not rest or come to Earth, neither Common Swifts nor the crescent moon in flight, but the Hale-Bopp swings near every few thousand years, and we…
The bookstore café was lit by lamps on tables, the big windows at the front beaded with condensation that acted like a blind, dimming the afternoon light. Sylvia had…