“It was hard to tell at almost-nineteen what was normal and what was specific to the excruciating silences of the relationships in my family.”
“I’m stuttering just thinking about that shit.”
“What do you mean the money’s gone?”
“To me, it was the universe punching me in the face, rebuking me for daring to try and be more than I was, using one of my best friend’s fists as a conduit.”
Sometimes you deserve to get punched, but you get a break because it’s Christmas.
This has been a good couple weeks for people we know putting out excellent work.
Our Aunt Fanny began her measuring, that summer, while dusk stood outside her bedroom windows, preparing to stoop and slide through the screens.
Do you ever wish you had known your parents as children?
The following is the last in a seven-part series about two disastrous years in the author’s life. In this chapter, the author avoids getting into a…
The following is the latest installment in a seven-part essay about two disastrous years of the author’s life. We will be posting a new chapter every…