Small Stones 8/9/16

The dim streetlight casts an orange glow over us, as we crowd the tiny park. Some of us came here on foot, others on bikes, and one by car.

The dim streetlight casts an orange glow over us, as we crowd the tiny park. Some of us came here on foot, others on bikes, and one by car. Continue reading “Small Stones 8/9/16”

Small Stones | 8/2/16

I stood in front the refrigerator, searching. The fridge was nearly empty. My stomach growled again, and I reached for a bottle, nestled between the mustard and the Sriracha. Zesty Italian dressing is no substitute for olive oil, but it was really all I had. Continue reading “Small Stones | 8/2/16”

Small Stones | 8/1/16

Every day, throughout the month of August, I will be participating in a fun writing experiment, known as Small Stones.

His hands were shaking, as he inspected each of his fingers, trying to remember the last place I pricked him. Continue reading “Small Stones | 8/1/16”