I’ll always remember when I was three and stepped up onto a new sidewalk that was too high for me, almost to my knees.
Shrieking wails, carried by the churning wind above, deafens me as the darkness steals my sight.
A breeze tousled the silver birches that loomed above the trail, provoking a flurry of golden autumn leaves.
there is someone who looks just like you
“You’re late, Isaac.”