Terminal2/18/2015 “What brings you here?” Marcy blinked. “I was on a flight to Boise with bad visibility. You?” “Bus to Seattle,” Tara replied. “Mudslide.” Both shifted in their chairs. “Think they have Doritos here?” Marcy eyed the landscape of flames outside. “Couldn’t say.”   
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Silver2/4/2015 Mom stands. “Clear the glasses.” I rise, knocking my spoon to the floor. “Sorry.” I kneel, reach, find something under the shadowy drapes. I draw it out. It is not a spoon. “Mom, what –“ Her hand has me before I finish.  Archives
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