This is what an eleven year old Prius cannot do: 65 mph uphill in the rain with about four times the load it can reasonably be expected to bear. All three vehicles had about four times the load they can... Read more →


There is a small stone house on the corner of Columbus and Saratoga, unoccupied so long neither Nina or April can remember when it wasn't just empty, sitting on the corner like that. Whoever owns it now has been trying... Read more →


I think we were in Donegal because that's where I got my jacket and I only recall spending that much money in one place. I know we were looking for them, both the linens and the jackets, and there they... Read more →


The original timestamp on The Red Umbrella (and the light) is August 13, 2020 which has caused a dip into the well of cognitive dissonance this morning. The post was written forty-eight hours after I'd put my affairs in order... Read more →


Maybe it was the editor, I don't know. All writers have an identifying syntax, or voice, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much. Some voices announce themselves at the opening sentence; or at the very least, the first paragraph. The voices... Read more →


They came from Sugarland in Texas; hadn't been there very long, and before that Ohio and before that Connecticut. In Sugarland, he pronounced himself done. He was sixty, or almost, and he was done. My dad, he tells a pretty... Read more →