“We need to talk.” David’s voice sounded like a stranger’s––subdued and hesitant. Celeste’s stomach clenched, but she didn’t turn around. The dinner plate in her hand was dry, but she kept the dishrag moving in mindless, persistent circles. She could barely make out his reflection in the window above the sink, see-through and indistinct. “It’s … Continue reading Leaving

The Cyclone

There's a crazy lady in my living room. She's a runaway train, hijacked by an inner demon. Her lips curl as she spits bitter vulgarities. She paces, face flushed with rage. Heels strike angry staccato on hardwood,  like a heartbeat. Before her, husband and friend, exchange private, amused glances. Who smiles at a time like … Continue reading The Cyclone