I’m waist deep in lake water, casting for trout. The only sounds I hear are the occasional crow’s caw and the ‘zzzzz’ of my reel as the line plays out...
“Excuse me?” The whispered question was faint amid the bustle of a Friday evening sidewalk. Wrapped up in my own impatience to get home, I didn’t realize he was speaking to me.
Curling into my chest,
she forms a comma
with her body...
The woman in the blue dress appears to move in slow motion, the crowd blurring around her. Her sensible but still flattering pumps, in a shade that precisely matches that of the dress, follow a straight path across the pavement.
Scratch that.
Ten-year-old Maggie begins an August Monday at five a.m. She wakes with the sun and lies still for a minute, listening intently.