Flash Frog

Sammy stands atop his mattress, arms-crossed, chin-out, and declares he’s not tired, “not even a yittle bit.” It sounds cute but it’s 10:23pm and we’ve been here an hour, and egg-free/dairy-free/gluten-free cupcakes for tomorrow’s Valentine’s party char in the oven, so when Sammy bends…

After the divorce, the first one appeared between the salad forks. I had opened the cutlery drawer looking for something ordinary to do with my hands. It was late. The kitchen light was the wrong kind of bright. On the draining board sat one…

The lost dog sign was stapled to a telephone pole, one corner flapping in the wind. Don’t chase, the sign read. Will run away, with a picture of a dog—fluffy little terrier, wet muzzle—between Don’t chase and Will run away. “Perfect description of me,”…