Tag Archives: Sean Conway

Out behind his old house—now his ex-wife’s house—he remembered a narrow, rocky path carving through the heavy woods, cool and shaded in summers but smelling of earthy decay and overrun with aggressive mosquitoes. In winters though, he would snow-blow the … Continue reading →

The cluster of latex balloons sagged, limp and forgotten the morning after, weighted with regret and unfulfilled promise from the mailbox post. Not even a breeze stirred them. Was there anything more depressing? Tess didn’t think so. She moved across … Continue reading →

His name was Marion Dinklage but he had always been called Dink. In grade school, it was peppered at him as an insult, a tease, but the initial wave of anger he’d swallowed wore off rather quickly, as he soon … Continue reading →

Whenever I’d open the door to Mum’s room to check on her I’d find myself bracing for something, breath hitching at the top of my throat, joints tensing, as if somewhere deep in the recesses of my chest I expected … Continue reading →