The parking lot was empty when I arrived, its single light flickering in the inky darkness. Windshield fogging, I wipe it clean with the cuff of my hoodie, and kept driving to row 10. The instructions were explicit, and I followed them. Desperate, I ignored everyone’s warnings and now, here I am, in the middle of a deserted parking lot in the dead of night, freezing while I wait. Headlights blind me as they drive up. Windows down, breath ballooning…
Tom glanced down the path ahead. It rolled uphill and around a curve. Guzzled the last of his water and wiped his sweaty forehead with a trembling hand. Legs fatigued, and certain he’d fall, Tom collapsed on the hot blacktop. “I’m down for the count. Not gonna make it, but I’ve had a good run. Go on without me. Tell them I tried.” Janice glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You gonna do this our entire walk? We…
It didn’t surprise anyone when it happened. Not really, and anyone who said otherwise wanted assurance of a clean conscience for not helping her learn to drive. They’d all sat idly by and watched it unfold, whispering their opinions and betting on failure. Which is why it didn’t surprise anyone when the car skidded across the wet road, flew over the embankment, and plummeted into the rocky ravine. No, what surprised everyone was when they realized Tammy was standing beside…
She was born on the fourth of July amidst the parades, picnics, and scorching heat. They named her Liberty because it seemed fitting and patriotic considering the occasion. Marge, humming the Star-Spangled Banner, stared out the hospital window as the sky blossomed with fireworks in an array of patriotic colors, and Bert held their daughter. They share the story every year, embellishing it here and there, always trying to convince people they’d aptly named their carefree and wild child. The…