I wish you hadn’t helped me last year.
Fiction
Hot wet tears run down my cheeks and under my collar.
Dante likes to tell stories.
I waited in line at the grocery store and stared at the tabloid magazines.
By the time Mariel arrives at the water’s edge, the sun’s hanging low.
I wouldn’t go out of my way to befriend Virginie, but I’m flattered that she accepts me into her circle.
Marguerite had always feared dying in a fire.
