Red-tipped points collide with circles within an illusion of stars creating timeless patterns that collapse to a center just in time to make you forever lost.
Warming morning rays have not yet reached her tissue-paper-thin wings. She is caught, immobile.
“What about the garden?” Ayn asked. “For the hundredth time, Ayn,” her dad said, “they said they’d have someone come do the upkeep. Like with the house. Keep an eye on it.” Leaving the garden to strangers felt like the biggest abandonment of her mom. She had loved tending the garden, and it showed. Their yard
“You all right, Linda?” “Yes,” I lie. It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. He pauses. He knows me better than that, but also knows how fragile the balance is between us right now. We’re practiced, Marty and I, at the fine art of dancing around issues. “Okay.” I watch my husband walk
Emma waited until five o’clock before giving up. “Fine,” she said to the phone. “Don’t call me.” The interview yesterday had gone well, she knew it had. So why hadn’t they called for a second interview? “I’m too old,” she told herself, looking out the front window at the wilting daisies in the front yard.