There’s a Fist-Sized Hole in the Kitchen Window

It’s that kind of day where you pray for a whisper of a breeze to kiss the beads of sweat that sting your eyes. You don’t move a muscle, lying on the dock, fingers trailing in tepid water. The lump of a secret too huge to swallow grows in your throat until you think you’llContinue reading “There’s a Fist-Sized Hole in the Kitchen Window”