Issue: 2025

So, my mental illnesses and I are talking in my head, and it looks like one of those therapy-based support groups. I’m sitting in the middle since it’s my turn to go. They all have their outfits. Autism wears the third new outfit that day, bright and m … Continue Reading

I hate open casket funerals. Grandpa looks more alive now than he did before he died. His hands are fastened together on his chest over a smart black suit jacket. They’ve tastefully applied rouge to his cheeks, like the final flush of life. And if you … Continue Reading

Joseph Anderson came to the farm late in life. A teacher, retired, but not worn out, going blind, but working for his keep. Each day when weather and his knees allowed, he hobbled in hay fields and sheep pasture, piling circles upon circles of stones a … Continue Reading