family
Draft with Revisions
My father told me what life was. You go to school. You get a job. You earn money. You retire. My father didn’t offer this as advice, no. He described it as routine, a set way of doing things that had worked before. Years of hardship, repetition, and caution shaped this path. There was no room for discussion. I never questioned it because that seemed pointless, even wasteful, and waste was not allowed in that system.
By Lori A. A.3 days ago in Fiction
Golden Time of Day
When the snow melted, the spring air brought the pungent smell of trees blooming. Their pinks and fuchsias and whites created a panoply of color. Sedgwick Vorman, 39, carried the flowers in the same way to the same grave at the turn of the season. His skin looked like chestnuts and his strong cheek bones and hands shot through the neck and the sleeves of his designer jacket. He dusted off the marker and replaced the flowers. He set up a blanket and a beach chair. He then opened the newspaper. News about the worst day in stock market history since the 1929 crash alerted his attention as he turned on the radio.
By Skyler Saunders5 days ago in Fiction
