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 Jon Jackson “Soup or salvation?” she said. “Beg your pardon?” He glanced around the room. A few old men sipped coffee and scanned the local paper. Dust drifted through the sunlight escaping the aluminum blinds like glitter in a snow globe. Fluorescent lights buzzed sporadically and an ancient window…