Dear Wigleaf,

I'm in a bookstore and café inside a Habitat for Humanity ReStore. Hammers hang suspended from the ceiling above me, like a carpenter Damocles. A man I once knew from open-mic poetry readings tells me he now lives in a storage unit. Alex Jones is spying on him.

All the pastries are gluten-free.

I worry about the man. I worry about my son. I worry about my daughter. And what will hang over their heads.

Wish you were here!

Craig




- - -

Read Craig's story.

W i g l e a f                11-09-19                                [home]