by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
By Dorothy Crawford Walking into the room was like walking into a box of kindergarten crayons – red and yellow, green and blue – but that was exactly what she’d wanted. She’d spent months searching for the perfect furniture and had finally found the crib at a yard sale and…
By Dorothy Crawford She hated pecans. She hated the way they looked – like little, shriveled-up brown brains. She hated the way they smelled – like sweet, buttery dirt. She hated the way that everyone else loved them – like they were some amazing thing that she just didn’t ‘get’….