Category: Nonfiction

I saunter slowly through the aisles of annuals and poppies, past flowering cacti and tiny Christmas trees following Michaelene in the Lowe’s Garden Center on

I knew you were drunk last night. Not by the smell as much as the three times you called me beautiful. By the talk of

I. That winter, I took up writing in an attempt to forget the countryside.  My first play, carefully parsed out into eight acts, took place