One winter….I coat checked at a French bistro in Chelsea where there were radishes in bowls on the zinc bartop.
Radishes by Amber Burke
Category: Flash
Eggs by Shannon Purdy Jones
Her clay brown body would have blended in with the tile if not for black and gold eyes….
When We Used To Glow by Tom McAllister
When we say there used to be more lightning bugs, I’m afraid we’re really talking about how our parents used to be alive.
It Is Particularly Requested by Katherine Rawson
It is particularly requested that no flowers be sent.
Some Measure of Comfort by Belinda J. Kein
I should have….seen it coming those last days when we barely moved from that garish yellow sofa…
The Last Ride by Carol E. Anderson
We speed, Mauree and I, through the streets of Seattle in an ambulance.
Trickster Laughs by Staci Mercado
Twelve miles from the Montana border, the car quit.
Frill by Rebecca Tiger
I wheel her from room 105 out to the Café Bistro at Menorah Village Memory Care Center.
The Facts of Your Body by Ava Robinson
They recorded your irises being hazel, even though you always said they were brown.
Transits by Andi Beierman
I realize I am middle-aged when I meet Destiny.
