The sparrow literally dropped through the flue into Helen’s cold fire place at just barely daylight. At first, she thought she imagined it.
Category: Original Fiction
“Good morning, love. I guess it’s morning, though it’s hard to tell. It’s just too dark all the time now . . .”
“Fifteen-love,” Georgia says then serves.
Blades reached her just as the light at State and Washington turned green . . .
I am running behind on dinner thanks to a last minute work emergency and bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate . . .
“Suzy, did Lucas have Lucky Charms again for breakfast?”
“Keep Portland Weird.” I see it on signs all over town, but what does it even mean?
Ah, those eyes. You look into them, and you still see the fire, at least for a little while . . .
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