The Morning Light in San Miguel
The sun came through the window of the casita in a long stripe across the bed.
Mature stories. Mature stories, from quick reads to long series. Reads run 22 to 26 minutes. Writers to know: Vermilion Fiction, Drift Diary and Observer of Starling. Readers usually start with “The Talent Show Confession” and “The Quiet End”. Ranked by how many readers finish them. Some are free to read in full; the rest open with a free preview.
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The sun came through the window of the casita in a long stripe across the bed.
The rope went with a crack you could feel in your teeth.
Heath backed the stock trailer through the chute gate at a quarter past ten and killed the engine for the last time that season.
*This one's for anyone who's ever kept a thing they should have returned, just because it felt too good to give up.
Ten years.
Wilma had been looking forward to this evening for three weeks, and she was not going to let a little thing like turning sixty-four make…
Beverly had driven twenty miles of freeway and then past the address twice before she worked up the nerve to park.
Drew again.
I turned fifty-two on a Thursday, and that Friday night my boyfriend of three years asked me to pretend we had never met.
The snow started coming down sideways around four, and by the time I pulled into the lot at The Cold Aisle my wipers had given up on doing…
The ad said house-sitter wanted, one weekend, references required.
*This one was written in the quiet hour after midnight, thinking about how gentleness is not the opposite of heat.
The app said Sonny was fifty-two, a music professor, divorced, comfortable alone, and that his idea of a perfect first date was "an…
The chime went off again.
I was still at my desk at 8:47 on a Tuesday night, which by itself was not strange.
I signed up for the life drawing class on a Tuesday, mostly because my sister wouldn't shut up about me having no hobbies.
*This story was born from a daydream about a loan officer meeting his match in a woman who's lived a little.
Nobody warns you about the invisible guest spot at a wedding.
I'm standing at my grill on a Saturday in June, fifty-two years old, spatula in one hand, beer in the other, watching a moving truck eat…
I almost dropped the cupcake tray twice on the way from the parking lot, and both times it was because I was too busy squinting through…
Vermilion Fiction, Drift Diary, Observer of Starling, Moss Harbor