I never expect much conversation at breakfast. Maybe the occasional “could you pass the butter knife” or possibly a “have you finished with the newspaper”, but nothing more complicated than that. After fifteen years of marriage, there’s not really much more to say over coffee and toast. I can honestly say I never expected to…Continue Reading “Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast”

He came out of the warehouse’s dark hallway. Rita, who was twelve-years old that winter, noticed right away he had a familiar, pale, friendly face. He joyfully took her hands. “It’s so good to see you again,” he said. “I don’t know you,” she said automatically. “Let go!” He didn’t. Instead, he indicated an office…Continue Reading “Time is Like a River, and After Sunset, It Is Black”