Category One
flash fiction by Stephanie Goldman
This morning my neighbor’s seven-year-old daughter asked me to move my car off the grass. It’s killing the inchworms, she said. I stood, half-empty coffee mug in hand,…
This morning my neighbor’s seven-year-old daughter asked me to move my car off the grass. It’s killing the inchworms, she said. I stood, half-empty coffee mug in hand,…