My grandfather has fallen asleep with a paperback in his lap,¬†hands braided,¬†glasses on — and I watch his reflection from the bathroom mirror where someone has left a stick of deodorant by the sink that says Sure, and I am… Read More ›


He says Ginger was the same name of the dog who bit him, and gestures at scars around his mouth, on his cheek. He’s got a tattooed cross with his mom’s name, and the years she was alive, something about… Read More ›