For how many more years will you host the birthday pool party with the pizza and the cake from the grocery store . . .
Tag: flash fiction
As one of the more common breeds of spineless parents I am a huge fan of giving in the demands of my two-year-old. She’s an F5 cyclone of a girl full of wildly fluctuating emotions and I’m the house made out of straw.
“Let’s not think about it,” was what he kept telling her. She knew he might kill her. She knew too much.
Retirement day. Those words had resonated over my career, if you could even call it that . . .
The soil smells sweet—rich and earthy with a faint whiff of sulfur from a geyser somewhere in the vicinity.
The walls divide more than inside and out: they run a sharp line between needs and wants.
“Can you use me?” My hands keep shaking.
Once upon a time, there was a brave mother and father who decided to maneuver three suitcases, one backpack, two car seats, one Pack ’n Play, and two young children—including a cranky toddler—all the way to Disneyland.
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