Follow me and – if compelled – count every word. This is the start of a flash-fiction journey. Stick around for the ride and fuhgeddabout everything else.
Fast food hits different at 33. It wasn’t too long ago that a trip to Wendy’s for a “Fresh But Never Frozen” 99 cent cheeseburger (yes, those existed) with a side of medium fries and a surprisingly oversized soda was the text-book hangover cure. Now, closer to middled-aged than I was in college, I feel hungover after eating anything remotely close to that.
The tiny clothes stacked neatly in your closet remind me of how quickly you've grown and how hard it is for me to accept it. If the size difference of your shirts aren’t proof enough, the No. 2 pencil marks on the inside of your closet is validation. The baby socks once fit baby feet.... Continue Reading →
The thought of leisurely running, if that’s what you want to call it, is the last item on a long to-do list for a mom of two who works full time and opts to cook dinner more than ordering takeout. A nearly five year gap between running. That’s how long it’s been. I went from... Continue Reading →
Although I didn't care to admit it then, or at least I didn't realize it at the time, what was waiting for me at home on that hot summer day was inevitably on the horizon. Continue on to read more of this fictional short story about a 90s tomboy and what lead to her final summer day in Brooklyn.
Kristina M. Nasuti