William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford

The gray pocket I had cut was sewn over my ribs, the original white stitching of the manufacturer still visible at the corners. It did not look like a dress for a dance. It looked like my father was standing there with his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his quiet presence holding me upright. “They…

“It is in my green folder,” I said. “Under the passenger seat.” He nodded once, his chin dropping toward his collar. “The law in Oregon is very specific about tenant-owned appliances. If you paid for it, and the original is gone, you have the right to remove it.” “The old stove is still in my…

The car was dented and faded, its rear bumper held together with silver duct tape. Through the cracked side window of his truck, Carter could see the outline of Henry’s head against the headrest. The old man was sitting perfectly still in the driver’s seat. A faded brown wool blanket was pulled up to his…

She walked toward the small living room, her steps slow and heavy on the creaking floorboards. I stood by the narrow window, the glass cold against my forehead. Outside, the headlights of the semi-trucks on the highway cut through the dark, throwing long, yellow boxes of light across the weeds of the front yard. At…

The Oakridge Diner was nearly empty when I walked in at ten. The air inside smelled of grease and burnt toast, and the heater over the door gave a loud, metallic clank every time the wind blew outside. Frank was sitting in the corner booth, his eyes fixed on a local newspaper. A thick white…

I looked out the window at the gray water of the Duwamish Waterway. A barge was moving slowly through the shipping lane, its outline nearly lost in the heavy mist. “He thinks I am weak because of what happened after the miscarriages,” I said, my voice flat. “He thinks because I saw that counselor he…