I like to think of this flash fiction as the acoustic version to a similar story unfolding in my head.
Tag: prose
Because I Could Not Explain Grief In Symbols
Yesterday was three years ago, passing broken bodies of deer on the sides of every road. Their white bellies, slender, bent necks. I thought of her. Every black-eyed doe was the crack of her forehead on the steering wheel. Every dun-colored body was the bruises they say marked her face, kisses from impact. Passing their […]
