Ghost Route Letters
The first letter arrived on a Tuesday, which I remember because Tuesdays are dead at the salon and I had time to stand at the window and…
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The first letter arrived on a Tuesday, which I remember because Tuesdays are dead at the salon and I had time to stand at the window and…
The gate was the same one he remembered, which was strange, because Derrick had spent seven years telling himself he remembered nothing…
I leaned on the rail at the stern and watched Dover shrink behind us.
I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine with somebody's arm heavy across my ribs and sunlight coming through blinds I did not recognize, and I…
I turned twenty-five on a Tuesday, and I closed the restaurant alone.
The barge sat low in the water at the mooring outside Villeneuve-sur-Seine, and Marshall Sanford stood on the plank ramp with a clipboard…
I got to Port Stephen on a Friday afternoon in June.
The cracked bird feeder has been sitting on my porch rail for six months now and I still haven't thrown it away.
So here's how my Monday went.
Rosaline got there twenty minutes early, which was stupid, because now she had to stand around looking like she wasn't standing around…
I drove out to Hendricks Field on a Tuesday in July, the kind of heat that made the dashboard vents feel useless.
The townhouse was cheap and I knew why the second I signed the lease.
Evangeline woke up to an arm across her ribs and a ceiling she didn't recognize.
Theresa Mullen, thirty-four years old and tired down to her bones, locked the last door on the south hall and stood there for a second…
The tarworks smells like a bad decision that got left out in the sun, and that night it smelled worse than usual, because they'd fired up…