Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
It was a Sunday when the new recliner flew off the Ford, Daddy having failed to latch the tailgate before he roared onto the southbound, following a semi and an argument with Mother on the finer points of the Sabbath. Sunday is a day for rest, not a day for Read more
My mother’s hair was high in the sixties, beehive style. A social climber, she secured invitations to every ritzy Reagan-Republican-Beverly-Hills-circle-of-influence affair. Hearing about a party to which she had not been invited, she’d find a way to run into the host at the market or feign a reason to call. Read more
I can’t comb the phone book or look online for your info, our brush so brief and fraught with drama there was no time for niceties like names exchanged. I don’t remember even the color of your hair; I pressed on my crushed ribs and stared at the cracked dashboard Read more