Jeter’s World History report has taken a turn. Marty is gone again, so it’s my job to sit in the kitchen and make dinner and…

I’ll never send this. I’m writing it on my phone from a cafe, looking out at the same beach in one of Grandma’s old photos…

Remember that time with the search warrant? I was cocooned in your warm mania in the house you built us, happy as a sky. You…

Bone Creek runs east of the house. In summertime, a cracked dry mud covers it for a quarter of a mile, looking like an imitation…

I marveled at the thin path the deer cut from the lake, through the field, along the crooked teeth of the fence, past the stiff…