Jetsam
It was on this spot of shoreline that Ben’s body had washed up, almost a month ago now.
Category Flash Fiction
The Wake
A blast of Granda’s biscuit scent fills my nose
Early Summer, Late Springtime
For the first time in my life, it feels like there’s no path forward
1,037 MPH
It lives in our mouths before we’re born and impregnates our last breaths.
Sundown
“We have time,” I say. “That’s just the warning bell.
A Nice Boy
“What is the nature of your visit?”
“Ve arr nut visiteeng. Ve arr leeveeng heer.”
Good morning
Isobel wakes up earlier than usual today. Still, under the blanket, she watches the sun stain the sky a deep purple from the glass slats on the roof.