“Early for shift,” it said. “One minute, thirty-two seconds. Twenty-seven hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty seconds of voluntary overtime have been logged to your account this period. Would you like to volunteer to give up a shift?”… more
“Early for shift,” it said. “One minute, thirty-two seconds. Twenty-seven hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty seconds of voluntary overtime have been logged to your account this period. Would you like to volunteer to give up a shift?”… more
There was nothing to slide off her finger. No reason to reach out to Toby’s empty hand, turn it up, and set something in the middle of his warm palm. Nothing gleamed in the dim winter light. The ring was on a baggage cart, on the tarmac beyond the window, packed in Toby’s suitcase. But she knew it was coming.… more
Darrell stared at the room placard just below the peephole until his sight went out of focus. He made the numbers 404 transform, they shuffled and stretched, elastic, until they spelled out their true meaning as Darrell saw them. A warning: Death O’Death.… more
Kenny was twenty-one when his son was born, and now at twenty-two, he regularly revised the last several months, envisioning himself as an author of the choose your own adventure books he read when he was younger.… more
The only things I’ve ever learned about loyalty, compassion, or real life love I’ve learned from folks with gnarled up hands and backs that don’t lay down right.… more
My grandma was glaring at Trixie’s fixings willing her to lie in the neat bed she’d made. Pearl was lying on her back with that piece of wood in her mouth. She was dusty and had her straw bedding stuck to her in small patches, some on her underbelly. All of her paws were outstretched to the sky. She was letting the piece of wood fall from her mouth and recatching it. Trixie’s phone was face-up flat on the dining table. The phone rang and we all looked to her expecting it to be Croker. Trixie quickly silenced it. … more
Poor Joe Riggs. Time has slowed to a deceptive taffy-stretch for him while he waits for rescue.… more
“You should see this piece of land I have,” he said. “Most days, it’s just me and the dog out there, and it’s beautiful.” It was the last thing I heard him say before he said goodbye. He was building a house. When he got back from six weeks in Portland it would be fall approaching winter, and even if he paid somebody to keep his worksite clear of snow, what kind of shape would he be in, working in the cold? … more