Flash Frog

Tomorrow we will attend the belated funerals of our youth in dress pants and collared blouses. We will give our apologies for the loss and sit in stifling silence and then go home and tell our partners of the people we caught up with,…

By the time I reach my brother’s apartment, the sun is already low, slanting across the row of houses. I park behind his truck. He opens the door before I knock, like he’s been listening for my footsteps. “You made good time,” he says,…

Today, Carol is glum. I bring her a hot coffee from the machine, two creams one sugar. “What’s wrong, queen?” I ask. We have this kind of relationship, ascribing to each other royal titles we haven’t earned. “Birds are cowards,” she says. Her face…