My mom is driving. She’s trailing our family friend’s grey car as it inches along a winding road of snow and mud. A storm blew through a few days earlier, depositing five inches of snow—winter’s first. And it’s forcing our …
It’s all too easy to ignore mundane things. A plastic water bottle, stains on the grocery store wall, pigeons, sunlight more shadow than light. A pot of water just before it boils. The diffuse mutter of traffic. It’s so easy …
Usually, when we shower, we don’t expect to be intruded upon.
It’s Sunday—that time between dinnertime and midnight when the night abutting my door is the perfect thickness, like a sable blanket. I’m in bed, still in my day clothes, …
The man wearing a baseball cap approaches our front door. Far from the door he stops and lays the box on our lawn of mostly hot dirt. Intrigued, I pause beside the stairwell. Just visible beyond the window trim is …