The familiar smell of wax served only to underscore the injustice of the situation: However firmly the child attempted to clutch a crayon between her tiny thumb and the two fingers next to it, her painfully swollen metacarpals, their distal joints no longer even discernible through the swelling, protested loudly, and her elbow wailed in … Continue reading Fresh Fiction: Sunday Afternoon Miniature

The rain stopped as abruptly as it started, and now the late morning sun poked through the clouds and beat down on the land, bringing it to a low simmer; steam rose in vaporous wisps from the ribbon of highway that passed in front of the diner. Lucy lowered the driver’s window and then palpated … Continue reading Afternoon Miniature 6.1.19