by George Freek I stare at my unmade bed.Outside, a chilling breezerustles the dead leaves,as if they were feathers.The moon is a ball of lead.I gaze at distant stars,lost in the infinite sky,as if they hadnowhere to abide.A torn shirt, hanging froma tree, waves in the breeze,like an abandoned flag,now…
by Daniel Link Evaluate. Supplies. Communicate. Account. Protection. Exit. She went over Roy’s checklist, then stuffed it back in her purse. She had been preparing for the better part of a year, but she couldn’t be sure she had done everything right. “I’m cold, Mama.” Not now, Gayle thought, then…