Every Day Fiction / 17 February 2018
Another windblown day, the humps in the sand like mountains. There’s a scent in the breeze, fresh fish, or maybe shrimp. The smell came from near the water, but it would be worth it if he got there before any of the other crabs. Or the gulls.
Man For Sale
Eunoia Review / 7 February 2018
I’d allowed myself the dangerous luxury of faith, bathing my worries in the hope of things working out. I’d begun to believe. For the first time since Dad died, I was relieved, like I could breathe and see again. Then, someone screamed.
Literally Stories / 5 February 2018
Visitant Literature / 28 March 2018
He wanted to be angry–at Tony and himself for failing, his mother, father, even at Charlie who cheerfully grabbed the last box from the car–but he was exhausted. Out of everyone, he could really only be mad at himself.