“Tar” by Scott Kaiser

10:00 a.m.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Ummm, this will work . . . I’m sure I can quit this time,” muttered Steve under his quickening breath while rapidly striking his index finger against the table before him.

“Here come the temple spasms, Steve . . .”

“The stain will stay.” by Bobbi Lurie

I spill coffee on the bed. The white quilt is stained.

How can I fix this? I tiptoe up the stairs to their kitchen, soak a wad of paper towels in the sink. I go back down the stairs, rub the paper towels into the stain. I scrub and scrub. The sun is rising; the stain is not. I lay back down on the bed. Hopelessness . . .