We imagined that his family survived on a diet of acorns and squirrels, so we felt sorry for him and pretended not to see when he’d stuff tortillas in his pockets before leaving.
Fiction
Galactic Collisions, Quiet Acres on Mars
He took off his L.L. Bean packable hat, leaned backward, and pointed straight up as if indicating something beyond either vision or imagination–possibly just some passing satellite.
From the Dinner Table
It had crossed my mind that maybe I was rebelling as some last attempt at what I had missed out on in high school, but I don’t think I was made to rebel whether Jeremy had cancer or not.