by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Paula Nutt The place I’m going reminds me of a newspaper, especially the headlines. Letters and numbers, facts and figures, neatly lined up in rows and columns of black and white. Some catch your attention while others are passed over. But first I must get there. Farm-to-Market Road 917…