An Elderly Woman Warned Me Not To Touch The Snow—The Next Morning, I Understood Why

still in the plastic—and set them on the nightstand without putting them in water. They were dead by the time I was discharged. He didn’t replace them. I didn’t ask him to.

Or maybe the distance had always been there, and I’d spent thirty-two years calling it something else—calling it his nature, his tiredness, the demands of the road—because naming continue reading …