Dear Hanna

by Zoje Stage

I’ve turned into my parents. The thought made her feel old. Here they were, medicating their parental turmoil with wine, sitting on the sofa like bookends too flimsy to keep the heaviness between them fully upright.

She wanted Porky to grab onto his calf with his tiny vicious teeth and drag him off. What was the kid’s name? It started with an S—Snotface? Shithead?