A glow from inside the fridge illuminates the room. I’m the only one awake. Pulling a half gallon of milk from the side door a sharp pain shoots up my arm. Nearly dropping the carton, my left hand springs into action and helps guide the milk safely to the counter. Scotch and Ibuprofen dull, Read More
(or Rivanna, Part 2) I am a man now, thirty something, and far from innocent, but my desires at least have grown more comfortable, their barbs crimped by conflict and compromise. I bristle still at boundaries, but their effrontery is less personal and I’ve long since learned to circumvent the ones that I can’t, Read More