A collection of four works of flash fiction presented in the style of four works from a museum.

My wife screams and my daughter’s hair-mottled scalp crowns. The doctor guides my hands and I grasp my daughter, her small body taught and alive,..

Ma at the bookshelves, searching for new knowledge. She takes a novel between her calloused fingertips, rummages through the pages like she’s looking for something..

ATTENTION PASSENGERS: Sorry to startle and disappoint, to inconvenience and annoy, but our priority one is not arrival or commute, it’s code for deliverance of..

Everyone say black is the colour of death.  But Emily know it ain’t true.  Black is the colour of Mama bein’ alive.  It the colour..

The tears came early that night, something she had expected. She had felt it building all day, a jagged boulder against her chest, sliding deeper..

When I first see it, I shudder. The knuckles are wrinkled and gnarly. The skin is gray. The middle finger tilts too far to the..

I remember the last time I saw my father. He left for war and died a short time later, a Marine helicopter pilot, flying in..