About the Man Who Kept a Silver Nail File
November 8, 2021Flash Nonfiction by Susan Terris
The man who once stood on a chair was also the one who took me skating with him every Saturday morning when I was a girl.
The man who once stood on a chair was also the one who took me skating with him every Saturday morning when I was a girl.
Art school helps, but stubbornness and passion for learning are vital.
Others might get sick, be hospitalized, or even die, but no one we know will really be affected by it.
After a stunned period, I resumed querying agents. What else was there to do?
How much there is to sing of, breathless as frog at noon, a song echoing desire, our pent-up viral longing for something more than monitor.
Better to live alone than with this kind of emotional wreckage, I counseled myself.
If a group of people, maybe our entire planet, wanted to exit the wormhole, would their desire be enough to make it happen?