The summer I became the last girl in my father’s house, I read Gilead for the first time. I was between my junior and senior years of college, and now that both of my older sisters were married, I
I was bringing a friend; that was all I said. His name is Raleigh. Like North Carolina. He plays guitar left-handed like Hendrix or McCartney. Born and raised in Chicagoland. Glasses cover his powder-blue eyes that match the walls
On the painting by Vincent van Gogh The trees are aflame.The stars are ablaze.The moon swirls as it dances through the night.The Milky Way curlsin light waves breaking on the shores of the far horizon.The steeple, the people in their homesalight
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