Tag Archives: Leah Browning

There is no cake. I can’t find my glasses, my shoes, the remote control. I shuffle around in my bathrobe and slippers. I shuffle from room to room. Every song on the radio reminds me of you. That one time, … Continue reading →

I. I don’t know how long he’s been trying to maneuver his friend into the waiting cab. The door is hanging open, illuminating the cab driver’s patient face as the drunk man walks instead into the street, his voice too … Continue reading →

It must have been the fourth of July, dusk in Lansing, the same fireworks we saw years earlier, in Delaware with E & K, when something went wrong with the explosives, the wind— and bits of debris rained down on … Continue reading →