Flaw Salad

It’s a fact, you said. It’s how the world works, you said. You told me in numbers and figures how magic doesn’t exist, and of course, one cannot argue with fact. I felt lonely for you then. It must be hard to travel the world without friends in the trees, without ghosts on your skin,… — read more

Water poured from an immaculate faucet as Jodi stood frozen before her bathroom mirror. Her hands, holding toothbrush and paste, rested beside the porcelain sink as she leaned toward her reflection. She pored over every feature of an irretrievably-aging face. Time had furrowed into the corners of her eyes and around the edges of her… — read more

Today, as every day, began with a lecture. Usually silent, sometimes aloud, she spent the dawning minutes of each day—long past nature’s dawn, a source of much censure—chiding herself on the habitual failures she would not, on this new day, repeat. Today’s scolding came from her right hand, which traveled down her torso and squeezed… — read more

Reminiscing about time spent at Faurot Field and wondering if we always inhabit the places we’ve been, if bits of their ghosts intermingle with our own, if we leave behind our soul-dust and take away a piece of the air, a bubble with all the emotions and hopes and fears left behind in soul-dusts before… — read more

I started writing our story, but it felt too big, and all I wanted was to get to that one day, that one beautiful moment in my car on the roof of parking garage where you worked, when the sun shined in and the love flowed out and the pancake picnic made you smile bigger… — read more