by Claude Chabot The people know. I have to be careful—they listen, they hear . . . . . . and I’m afraid for the little girl. And Charlie. They keep me here, but I flee often only to return. Their voices guide me—but they are wicked guides, hateful voices,…
by Kate McCorkle We are in the prescription drop-off line at CVS, which, after 6 p.m. on a weekday, is several people deep. My eight-year-old, Lizzie, has a severe ear infection. She is stoic and in extreme pain. The mean pharmacist is behind the counter. I once left the line…