by Gil Hoy On those windswept weekday mornings, asphalt driveway crusted with snow, my father would get up early, put on his secondhand boots and an old coat, and exit through our front door into the blue hour to get the motor running. That fifteen-year-old station wagon would stall if…
by Frank Scozzari The icy water had been rising steadily for an hour now, and despite her best efforts, Ingrid could no longer hold on. The waterline had breached her chest and then her shoulders and then her chin. Then the force of the water, a thousand pounds of pressure…
by Bobbi Sinha-Morey By the snowy river, its surface of china blue, she lived in a mobile home, outside her door wind chimes of teak and bone. The strong one in her family, taking care of her mother and two younger sisters long after her father had gone. The scent…