I Arrived At My Sister’s Wedding And She Tried To Hide Me

had the same face he’d worn outside the house nineteen years ago, orange firelight on his cheeks, not moving.

The Fire They Never Talked About

People always ask about the fire the wrong way.

They ask if I remember the pain.

I remember the wallpaper in the upstairs hall.

Yellow with little blue vines. Cheap paper. It had started peeling near the linen closet continue reading …