She faced the back corner, fluffing the tissue in her bra under a glowing Bud Light sign before moving to the bar. She sat across from a man she noticed was staring at her. Leaning in, her chest gently pressed against a cup of cherries. “Old Forester on the rocks,” she said. The man watched as she swayed to the music.Read more

Need a Miracle

“What do they do with the limbs?” I’d asked the doctor before Cleve’s surgery. I’d wanted to keep it. Throw it on George Bush’s lawn. “They’re incinerated,” he replied matter-of-factly. I imagined Cleve’s body in flames. When he’d sleep, I’d stare at the empty space below the left side of his body. He had said he could still feel his toes. He could bend them, and sometimes they stung — burning apparitions. I thought, if he could feel them, maybe I could see them, too.Read more


In the news, I read of desperate fisherman taking their own lives over the destruction, yet I somehow still wanted to live. Somehow I kept waking up in the mornings and I kept pumping overpriced gas into my Honda to get places I felt I needed to be. Where could I possibly need to be?Read more

Parking Lot Proposal

On January 11, 2006, we eloped at the Jacksonville county courthouse. It was just me, him, and his two best friends, Matt and Tony, as witnesses. I wore boot cut blue jeans, a slouchy tan sweater, and my hair in a ponytail. He wore his desert camis. There was no ring, and there were no pictures. Read more