by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
by Robert Kirk Scott Under the bed, in the dark, he remembered what it had taken to get him here. He remembered leaning back into the scratchy upholstery of the train seat, looking out the window at them, as the train lurched forward, ready to roll south. He didn’t believe…
by Robert Scott Because he was afraid, John Kirk Ormsby, the new managing overseer to that great patch of fertile North Carolina land known as Excelsior Plantation, had passed the night in his office and not at home comfortably in his wife’s good bed. The whitewashed mill office was dimly…