Honey dripped from her son’s chubby fingers as clouds hung low over the mountains visible from the back porch of their new house. The sun, Molly noticed as she folded down Sebastian’s collar, had turned his hair a pretty shade of gold. Blond didn’t run in her family—she, like her mother, was known for her dark brown curls—so the color was something magical, something magnetic, though not strong enough to keep David around. He’d left nearly five months ago, stopped calling. Five weeks had passed since Sebastian had given up asking for his father, since Molly had noticed that he had David’s nose and had cried fresh tears about his disappearance, since Sebastian had started first grade and had forgotten about Daddy because he’d made new friends. Continue reading

Social Work

You squat over the lip of a sidewalk, your tiny feet separated for proper balance. When it rains, the worms are freed from flowerbed soil. They always, always emerge to swim in the collecting waters. You’re a social worker, a professional strictly scheduled to work on rainy mornings in a pair of purple cotton pants that softly outline the globe of your Pampers. You rub one muddy finger against a shirt already slickened to your nipples. Continue reading

Our Honeymoon

There’s an avalanche barreling towards us.

It started on the mountaintop. It’s too late now to escape. We stand at the window, hand in hand, unmoving. Words rise up in our throats and die before they pass our lips. Instead, we focus on the warmth passing between us and nothing else.

Unhindered, I think of the gas station sushi I ate for dinner last night. Sucks that the last thing I’ll ever eat is shitty spicy tuna three-hundred miles from the closest shore. Continue reading