Before we start the walk home, he slaps a white envelope into my wife’s hands, legal sized, too big for the single incisor it holds. Dried flecks of blood from where it came out at the root, faint as a paint chip.
Fiction
A Delicious Silence
Evelyn, an unfortunate name for a boy, knew how to make the dogs howl. He’d been aware of this gift,…
Going Underneath
I can hear the snow. Outside, up there, crinkling down past the rooftops and dusting the fire escapes that hang…