Grief (Page 5)

Library reading room. Empty wooden swivel chair at wooden library table with book open on the table. Glasses on top of book. Wooden bookcases with blurred bindings of colorful books behind table and chair. A steak knife lies on the floor nearby.

TW: Suicide

I feel my chest heave as I walk through the kitchen.
Heavy breath, warm and wet.
My pace deliberate, pronounced.

Cold steel grazes my neck, awakening memories.

[continue]. . .

A monochrome image of snow falling softly on a line of wood and cast-iron benches that line the sidewalk in a New York City park. In the background, old buildings stretch into the distance.

Sometimes the warmth we need
comes from an unexpected place.

A novella (10,025 words).

[read]. . .

Fourth of July fireworks over an apartment building near Sandy Springs.

Awakened by fireworks at 1:30AM.
Disoriented I get up to see
why there are explosions
outside our back door.
Standing there looking out the bathroom window,
it hits me.
A flood of realization.

[continue]. . .