She is looking left, a glass of water with lemon wedge. He scowls right, scotch straight.
Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
Max: Most of my life I’ve believed what these eyes see these hands can touch, that seeing and touching, being touched, ends when they nail the coffin lid on. But, my mother, your grandma, had the last word on this creed the fall after she died, when I saw her one last time. I’d started … Continue reading Hunter’s Visitation
“Zip it,” Midge always said. “Zip it kid, or you’re gonna die.” And she would mug what she meant by zipping her thumb and forefinger across her grim lips. "Zip." So this is exactly what Ike did. He zipped it. He was eight years old at the time and figured that zipping it was his … Continue reading Midge and Ike on the Lam