Flash Frog

There’s a very small woman who lives in my ductwork. I’ve seen her bright pinprick eyes between the vent panels tracking me as I do Youtube yoga in my living room. I pretend I don’t see her. For her sake, or mine. I can’t…

My husband is building a spacecraft in our garage. An actual spacecraft from RYMDFARTYG, IKEA’s troubled cousin. Seventeen flat-pack boxes. 847 steps. The neighbor’s dog won’t stop barking at it. Sometimes screws hover before settling. Six months now. “Does the spacecraft frighten you?” our…

She came childless. Amongst our clutter on the concrete bench, she sat with her designer tote bag. A blue shark hooded towel and a rainbow bottle peeked out. We watched her watch the pool, the skin around her eyes worn. We masked our unease….