A Teacup Can Exist Without Your Gaze
You could never know, of course, what a china cup could mean to someone. She knew that as she watched you drink and place the cup back in its saucer, casually, as if a cup was just a cup.
Continue readingWriting & Other Things
You could never know, of course, what a china cup could mean to someone. She knew that as she watched you drink and place the cup back in its saucer, casually, as if a cup was just a cup.
Continue readingOut on the lake, the low plaintive call of Canada geese lingered in the mist, the sound reverberating in the moist air like an echo.
Continue readingThis story was first published by Visual Verse
Continue readingThere’s blood. I taste it when I swallow, metallic and unmistakable, like the tip of a battery on my tongue, and when I try to cough it up, a hand touches mine and something bleeps.
Continue readingThe idea comes at night, of course. It creeps up the stairs to the bedroom where you sleep, and you wipe it away, this thing which brushes the skin of your forehead. But it finds a way in, and whispers to you, ‘hush, hush.’
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