"Nobody talks to you here, thank God. Not even when you go out for a smoke in the bright day, where the cicada roar echoes the engines on TV, and the meady reek of honeysuckle blossom drives it home like a steering column to the chest: there are so many things you can never get back." A tough gem!
Patricia Q. Bidar
Thank you Palisades Review for reaching out and for giving this one a home.
www.thepalisadesreview.com/new-stories/...
Lindsey Pharr
It’s Mother’s Day, and you wake up mad. Hands up like a boxer against any gesture of solace. This year it’s official: your mother has been dead as long as she was alive. Put that on a fucking Hallmark...
