The Weekly
Why I Break the Dishes by David B. Prather
I want to see my true self, all my raw, unglazed edges, all my broken pieces a puzzle shattered on the floor.
I want to see my true self, all my raw, unglazed edges, all my broken pieces a puzzle shattered on the floor.
Her thoughts are like squalls of wind and water: concerned co-workers, ex-husband, grownup kids worried she’s drinking too much but too busy to come check on her.
The edges of the road were chipping away, the black tar dripping down the mountain like honey.