Every November Melancholy
As sunlight diminishes for the next 47 days, I hope you find the words, the moments with company, and enough light to hold you through the melancholy that comes, because, every November, melancholy comes.
Fate or Gumbo?
Sometimes, it’s okay to let go and let Gladys. Fate and Free Will are sisters, and sometimes game day turns out just fine for both of them.
Broad Daylight: The Cabin
Then, like turning the page of a fairytale, it’s there: the clearing—flanked on the south by a wall of forest and thorns—and the old cabin.
Broad Daylight
Stop Calling
—Please stop doing this. We talked about this before. So many times! I don’t want to lose everything we ever had because you can’t stop calling.
Not Me
—What do you mean, “This is not me”?
—I really don’t want to go.
—Then don’t.
—I have to.
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