“Wait,” he would tell us. “You’ll have to wait.”
Flash Fiction: Peaches
Flash Fiction: How skinny the leash, how thin the arms that hold me.
“Maybe this meant something, maybe it didn’t.”
Flash Fiction: Pond
Cars wait at the light. You are at the breakfast table in bare feet, wearing Jillian’s robe. A woman in a heavy coat labors onto the bus carrying all her things, a line of riders shuffle behind. Brakes release.
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