Category: Fiction

Can you see how delicious it was for me to have the whole house to myself all Sunday long? To be able to wander its rooms, to smell your pillow and peek at your diary pages?

He can read Body Shop and Hawkins’ Bazaar, but not the little writing under that. Perhaps everyone else here can see those words. It is impossible to know what other people see. He might be going blind and have no idea.

Dan’s head was leaned back, looking up at the sky. He was still smoking the same cigarette. She had only been under less than five seconds maybe but was surprised to see things—everyone there—unchanged. No one had noticed.

She fled in the middle of the night, her white minivan racing down the highway. She’d flung the campsite reservation clipboard on the ground, left the wash bucket on the stoop of the outhouse.

When Ryan heard Tayce unlocking the front door, he got back in bed, pulled the covers to his neck, and pretended to be sleeping.