From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

Shit was bad, but arguing about it all the time wasn’t doing anything productive other than driving a wedge between us.

The kid had no concept of time. He’d once told me he hated mashed potatoes because it took an hour to chew them.

just as it had always been, even while we’d been shattered and gasping for breath, it was just Eason and me, surviving in the only way we knew how: together.

There wasn’t a word strong enough for the way I felt for Bree, so I made do with what I had. “Love you too.”