Fiction
The Second-Toughest Son Of A Bitch In East Gary, Indiana
He would have said, sometimes it’s not about the truth. Sometimes it’s about kindness. Especially when it comes to family.
Family and Relationships
He would have said, sometimes it’s not about the truth. Sometimes it’s about kindness. Especially when it comes to family.
I was six years old when I became aware that death was something that would happen to me. I was in the car with my mom, in the backseat because she followed the rules, and we were on our way home from the grocery store.
After Taking Me Home Darkness lowered as we drove across town, back to your childhood …
your legs clasped like irons around his torso pinch me if you need to breathe he says before diving toward the cement floor his long arms gliding like a manta ray keen on kissing the sea bottom your bodies settling into the quiet like an anchor
The breakfast rush was hitting its peak when we learned about the dead woman lying not far from Table Four.
My friend Gina and I have a pact: Should either of us die unexpectedly, the other will retrieve the shoebox of sex toys hidden in the deceased’s closet.
