On Jodie Foster’s face, a white clock.
On Jodie Foster’s face, a white clock. Read More »
1.7.32
Beep beep, the car door latch, set down the clutch on the passenger seat, stare out the windshield, spin the engine up, two hands on the wheel, stare out the windshield, thump thump thump into drive, check the mirror for danger creeping from behind, bend the car out, stare through the windshield.
1.7.31
She froze on the stoop in the feverish sun, turning to wave while her eyes adjusted to the noontime light.
1.7.30
The vacuum of the pressurized townhome released and the thirsty Colorado air nudged Evelyn back in, sucking every atom downstream.
1.7.29
Taut, springs in the knob pushed back against the spiraling twist of bones criss-crossing in her wrist.