Every Moment
My phone rings. I stand and search for it. It is my mother calling. She never calls me at this time of day– never. She knows that I…
My phone rings. I stand and search for it. It is my mother calling. She never calls me at this time of day– never. She knows that I…
This is a draft of a short story that I later revised. Click here to read the final version. Here I sat in the coffee shop, day in, day out.…
The shutters on the house were a brilliant red. So red, it almost looked like house was crying, the windows being eyes, the wide red door being lips. The rest…
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.