I keep your photo in the pocket on the side without the gun. For balance.

I have made you some things, for when you get back. I understand now, all the baking you sent me, stale and crumbled in brown paper and rough twine. Now you’re away and I am...

Toxemia. A word that starts so harsh and ends so gently.

Etta, it could be everything, it could be nothing, what you’re making up. You shouldn’t let that bother you.

The students whipped their heads back to look at her; a blaspheming teacher was as exciting as a fight.