On Sharp Edges

S.A. Partridge, Sharp Edges - I tumble over and over, till the force of the deluge carries me away, out the door and into the passage. Photos of my family tumble from the wall and are swallowed by the sea. Her mouth opens and closes as she calls my name, but I'm already out of reach. - - The guy in the mirror doesn't look anything like me. - - Dinner is another tradition that refuses to die. I have to sit and wait while Mom dishes up for Dad first, then for me, then for herself. Why is he...