“Jonah, are you with us?” Ms. Turner calls, her voice strained despite herself. She knows how hard it is for me. I know she’s trying. I know I’ve disappointed her. Again.

Something was wrong. The cabin was dark. Arthur always turned on the table lamp by the bookcase and the front porch light whenever he left home for any period of time.

Melissa believed the human race could be divided into two groups. Those who have an innate desire to explore, and those who are anchored to a specific place from birth until death.

I'd been forgetting a lot of things lately. Then again, I'm not alone in that.

My mother always taught me a good boy always followed the rules. Or else.

I saw my old babysitter in the bar tonight. It’s been almost twenty years. It’s been so long that the last time I saw her, Eifel 65 played on the radio practically on repeat.

Lockdown helped me realise there is more than meets the eye in my town. Scratch beneath the surface you begin to discover there are weird and wonderful things happening in the most unlikely places.

She’d so looked forward to her first Adult Education class for Memoire Writing and now she couldn’t get a single word down on paper.

Husselbee cleared his throat, rapped on the glass, and told the woman in the green polo shirt he had murdered a man.

Someone slams the door to the trailer and my bed trembles because this is a small “mobile home” and no one can hide anything here.

He looked into her eyes. “Somehow, I feel as if this concert was more important than any of my other performances.”

Freelance journalism was cutthroat. There were lots of dues to pay.

“No, we have something quite different in mind for you, Harding. Something much more critical to the war effort in the long term.

There I was, Bulletbull98, black stubble peppering my young face, blue eyes, and long black hair that gave the impression I was a heavy metal fan—soon to be the best streamer on the platform, I would make sure of it.