Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

“Everybody is a main character to someone,” Bailey theorized, winding his way through the busy hall and out the nearest exit into the November afternoon. “There are no minor characters.

Kites or Balloons? Fern had said kites because if she were a kite she could fly, but someone would always be holding onto her. Ambrose had said balloons: “I like the idea of flying away and letting the wind take me. I don’t think I want anyone holding onto me.”

“Because terrible things happen to everyone, Brosey. We’re all just so caught up in our own crap that we don’t see the shit everyone else is wading through.”