

SaltJames didn't tell Addy they were going to a funeral. He didn't know, but he suspected she had a thing about death. She had a thing about everything.Salt
Two days before, his mother had called, her voice hitching and nasal. From her cell phone, her words broke up into tiny fragments, distant stars of shock:
Father. Hospital. Dead. Come home.
James made arrangements because the very thought of not going was an enormous burning void in the corners of his mind that he knew would suck everything vital from him. He wired money home and packed a suit. Then he had to call someone. Anyone. Addy wasn't a friend,


It Came From the Drive-InWe broke up at the drive in. The last smells of my life were the sweat smell from where your pink floral summer dress dug into your hairless arm pits, the yellow stink of the buttered pop corn, and the smell of breath spray on my mouth. The last words you said were angry with the buzzing gnats around your head. “I can walk home.”It Came From the Drive-In
Your last words to me were a lie. You lived too far, I was thinking, but your ex boyfriend’s red Corvette was parked in the other side of the lot. The last sound you made was a grunt and the sucking noise when you lifted a thigh, detaching the back of your legs from the false leather sea
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-Sam
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