“Mmph” I look across the white tables and chairs separating us to Phil who sits in one of the chairs leaning over a puzzle on a table. “Unh” he grunts again swatting at his head, and after a few blinks I see it. They dart up and around the lights before diving down once more. Their little wings fluttered. No bigger than my hand. …
Was it gonna rain? Oddly enough that was the thought looming in her mind. The blue skies that were above moments ago were now gone. Replaced with a bleak gray overcast. Sad, congested clouds looming overhead. She’d forgotten to check the weather report before she ran out that morning. It was something her husband had often nagged her for. She never planned ahead. “Que …
She lived in one of those small towns, in the middle of America, with a name familiar to no one more than 100 miles away. In an old warehouse off Route 7, her secrets writhe beneath the loose floorboard on the second floor, and on the third Friday of every month, she lets them free.
