The sun crests over him. I watch the brown-gray body as it shifts tall grass. The raised head. Dad’s on the porch with a gun in his pocket and whiskey riding his breath. He tells me to go on already—the field is safe.… more
The sun crests over him. I watch the brown-gray body as it shifts tall grass. The raised head. Dad’s on the porch with a gun in his pocket and whiskey riding his breath. He tells me to go on already—the field is safe.… more
