I finally find the courage to go back to Curlews. The alley, haunted by the stench of Alexanders, leads to the front gate. Chopped wood is piled against the wall amongst unkempt nettles. On the untended lawn, a large ant hill has developed, sprawling soil covered with dandelions. The spring sun reflects off broken panes, signaling to the shards below. After school, you’d have been watching from the bay window, until I turned the corner.

drawn curtains
not so much
as a twitch

Bio: Dr. Tim Gardiner