from Gulf Coast

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You enter from the garage to the wag of dog tails and the sound of their sharp nails on hardwood. Work has drained and exhausted you. You have reflux, eyestrain, a slight throbbing in the temples. You say hello to your wife and meet her at the kitchen sink for a kiss.

She does not keep her back to you and continue peeling carrots. She doesn’t ask dryly how your day went because she detects it in your eyes and spares you from answering this question you don’t want to answer.

The days are getting longer. Evening light shines through the windows around your breakfast nook, revealing streaks in the glass. A flower vase sits atop the round wooden table, its arrangement running out of water, dry petals catching low sunbeams, turning slowly into silhouette. Read the full story