DINNER PLANS • by Ruth Schiffmann
A crush of pressure tightens in my head. “It’s going to be okay, Melanie,” Jeff’s voice is patient. He looks at me like I’m his whole world, but I just want him to leave. I reach for the radio volume....
View ArticleA GERONIMO AUTUMN • by Ruth Schiffmann
I watched through dusky sunlight as Gary and Dell rode circles around the neighborhood, legs pedaling like the devil as they approached the puddle I could see so well from my quiet seat next to Mama at...
View ArticleAPPLE SEASON • by Ruth Schiffmann
When I visit Grandma at the hospital, I trace a cool finger over the thin vein in her hand. Her eyes flutter open at my touch and I can’t help but ask her, “Do you want a slice of apple pie?” “Lydia...
View ArticleSILENT WITNESS • by Ruth Schiffmann
The white oak that stands at the end of our road has a soul like mine. Momma says it’s blasphemy to say such things. I don’t think Momma’s ever seen the tree — not really. We walk under its sprawling...
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