Category: STORY

For a moment, Marisol could hear the radiator clicking behind Mercer’s desk more clearly than either adult breathing.

Vanessa slammed the blue folder onto Dad’s breakfast plate, scattering toast crumbs across the typed pages.

Vanessa set the blue ceramic house-shaped spoon rest beside my coffee and said, “Your father says you stole from him.”

The blue ceramic bird landed beside my coffee just as Mark called me a thief.

Margaret Vale held my camera strap over the courthouse fountain like a leash.

The dust from the flatbed settled slowly across the caliche driveway of our honey farm outside Fredericksburg.

Margaret’s hand hit my camera before the bride’s father finished saying, “Smile.”

Margaret slapped a red enamel film canister from my hand beside the hotel fountain.

Margaret held my brass lens cap over the fountain and called me a thief.