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He didn’t need to know more about Margaret. Not yet, anyway.
I knew there was something wth her
In learning to read, I was also learning to fall in love with words; I liked how each one was different, unique, like a fingerprint.
is she crazy?
I imagine opening myself up at the stomach, placing Margaret snugly inside. It feels like that sometimes. Like she’s mine to protect. Like without her, I’m hollow.
Um... This is an original experience
“Is it because of what happened?”
I knew it
the knowledge that there was nothing waiting for me back home other than an empty house and another long, dark stretch of quiet.
Your dog??
plastic trays of sweaty cheese and baby carrots the texture of ashy elbows.
Gross
a handful of swallowed pills or a scream underwater.
the case of Kenneth Parks,”
Pulling her from the water, her wet, limp body no longer too hot but, suddenly, too cold.
