When we live our lives on the edge, with no regard for how we conduct ourselves or how we treat our mates, it’s no surprise that consequences usually follow.
Illustration by Andres Garzon It was a long drive back from the cottage. We awoke hungover in […]
Wandering endless bleached earth.
My father’s funeral was on a Tuesday, on my mother’s birthday.
“You’re late, Isaac.”
Halloween night 1955: a Volkswagen Beetle hit nine-year-old Erika on Decarie Boulevard, corner Monkland Avenue. Notre-Dame-de-Grâce borough.