This struck me dumb. The news was too severe, too eternal.
Read MoreNobody wants to see a Ford when they’re looking for a Brontosaurus.
Read MoreEvery night, something new awaited me. I was impressed by the variety of situations she conjured.
Read MoreHe wants to pass along that momentary faith, performing a miracle all his own.
Read MoreWe found the candles one of us had been saving for romance. We lit them.
Read MoreClyde remembers making snow angels.
Read MoreBillie turned in her seat and watched the house through the back windshield: nobody stood at the door. The air was clear and cold and empty.
Read MoreAfter two hours in the sand, delirium took over.
Read MoreShe has a gun. It’s upstairs, in a velvet case.
Read MoreHow do you completely exclude one of the primary colors?
Read MoreHe would have walked outside, naked, to see what she grew, but the moon was too bright.
Read MoreHe crests the ridge and slide down through salal and sword fern, plants his feet in creek mud, and stops to catch his breath, to listen.
Nothing but the gurgle of water, the swaying trees, his own hard-charging heart.
”Ack, ack, ack!” go the foxes on Instagram.
Read MoreThere’s probably a herd of woman bugs fleeing to Bed Island as we speak. Victims of sex crimes. Looking to drown their worries with the sweet taste of blood.
Read MoreDasha has read the horror stories online—a whole subreddit devoted to people who went on O trips and swore they never got custody of their brains back.
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