Stories
Planting a Tree You May Never Sit Under: My Grandfather's Orchard and Time
He circled a peach in the catalog and wrote a year five years out, in the handwriting he saved for important things. He did not get the five years.
Stories
Wearing the bright color they always saved for later, before later runs out
A cobalt blouse four years in its plastic, a coral one from her mother's closet with the tag still on, and a jar of fig jam finally opened on ordinary toast.
