I used to think Mr. Crawford was just a nice man. He always hugged me and gave me presents when I saw him. When summer came, I leaped at the chance to work at his junk shop. Yes, a real junk shop, piled to the ceiling with dusty relics and furniture. All I had to… Continue reading Summer Job
Tag: soft breath
Carnivore Bait
A breeze brushes past me: soft breath on my skin. It’s nearly dark. The fireflies are out; so too the crickets, which make their ritual evening serenade as I test the ground beneath me for softness. This is not a good place to set up the tent: too rocky. The rocks might come in handy… Continue reading Carnivore Bait