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Late Spring, Sunday
Photo by David Clode on Unsplash by Jack Bedell Morning, and the sun couldn’t possibly be more up. My brother and I walk the levee as close to
Photo by David Clode on Unsplash by Jack Bedell Morning, and the sun couldn’t possibly be more up. My brother and I walk the levee as close to
Photo by Adrian Smith on Unsplash by Rachel Smith We drive up here in the half-dark and pull up in the spot that is ours for the night,
Photo by Timo C. Dinger on Unsplash by Rebecca Long History will say “they were roommates.” And, to be fair, Eve and Bianca were just roommates. But when Eve’s mom
Photo by Richard Sagredo on Unsplash by Bethany Jarmul I’m lying in my bed which is suspended in an oak tree, reading a book about nothing. Its empty
Photo by J Lee on Unsplash by Kathryn Kulpa When she was thirteen years old Emma fell in love with a dead man. Lost her heart to his
Photo by Mister B. on Unsplash by Julianne Bond Because it has grown wild and unacceptable, sharpen the garden knife along the stone wall and run your finger
Photo by okeykat on Unsplash by Julianne Bond Given that you are face down on the floor it will be harder than you thought. Run your tongue along your
Photo by Roseanna Smith on Unsplash by Tara Isabel Zambrano It’s just before Thanksgiving when the face of the eight-year-old girl flashes on every TV screen. Missing teeth
Photo by Michał Mancewicz on Unsplash by Tara Isabel Zambrano On my fifteenth birthday, Dad brings his lover—tall, bald, his jawline—a knife in my eyes. Above us a
Photo by Ussama Azam on Unsplash by Sandra Arnold She pulled the book from the top shelf, opened it on the table and took out the paper tree
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