What he knew about feelings: That you swallow them, push them down into your intestines so they can’t escape, so they lodge in that warm pink space where they belong—not on the street, not on people’s faces all stricken and blubbery and slobbering. … more
Tag Archives: Daughters
Four, in the Morning
FICTION by Morgan Atwood“I tucked her and her rabbit into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. I wished she hadn’t called me daddy. I loved her, but that still felt wrong… more
