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
Wednesday morning, 7:48. Fremont Avenue. The street is full. An old brown sedan crawls like a dying beetle over its surface. The motor sputters. It backfires while the car’s shadow paints the road beneath it with a thick, lingering
Gill sat in his rolling leather chair and leaned against his sturdy desk late in the night; perhaps early in the morning would be a more accurate assertion. The sun had long since ebbed beneath the horizon, and Gill’s
The waiter was the last man to leave the restaurant. He was an unattractive man. Tall, slim, and vastly angular in his black and white uniform, he lived alone in an apartment now that his father had died. It
People curled along the side of Florida State Prison like an amoeba. Children plucked dandelions and crabgrass from the brush, singing, “Fryday! Fryday!” until the elders of the group told them to sit down and shut up. Young women
14 February 1918South of Rostov-on-the-Don, Ukraine The sky hung heavy over the steppe. It pressed through the man’s coat, and his horse shivered with each gust of the frozen wind. Blowing snow stung his face and blinded him.