A Dog Without a Bone
“The spot in the sun got too hot, the blanket made it worse, and I was done with the bone. As for the squeaky toy, I’ll get that back.”
Conversations
Month: October 2018
Poetry
Sadness Behind the Mask
And continue to hide my fright
From all those who alight
They need not know my piles
Or wonder about my daily trials
Flash Fiction
Forced to Watch
Alone, I exhale all the tension of the day. I let it go. I close my eyes and dream of my home. I wake up each morning dreading the chair, the television, and my life.
