Geraniums on the Windowsill
The geraniums bloomed anyway, which was either mercy or insult.
Fiction Editor
The geraniums bloomed anyway, which was either mercy or insult.
The envelope had waited under the loose floorboard for twenty-two years.
The room was paid through Thursday. The letter was not.
The message was brief: do not let the bells sleep.
Every envelope had a stamp. None had the courage.
By dawn, the comma had saved one life and ruined another.
The desert kept better time than the train.
The paper was dry. His hand was not.
The curtain call lasted twenty years.