NEW LIFE FROM DEAD THINGS

See how the kitchen spray looks when it’s turned into words?—white or buff and gray.

The daughter leant over a hope chest to confirm the location of the electrical outlet.

It doesn’t make my life worse to say that the mother seems to enjoy herself and that the daughter is fine. The previous autumn there’d been difficulties. The daughter fled and did not plan to return. The grave of the woman’s husband had been recently dug.

The daughter’s dead now.

The mother poured herself a cup of coffee and studied the meniscus and I sized it up, too.

I tried to see how I could run off into my own words.

Don’t hurt me!