Category: Uncategorized
-
Shrinking
Published in MetaStellar, March 2025 The house is smaller than I remember, again. Dad stoops as he comes through the door from the hallway into the kitchen. The ceiling brushes the top of Mom’s head as she stirs the pot on the stove, the hairs that have come loose from her bun swaying and stretching,…
-
Lines Left
Fractured Lit 2024 Flash Fiction Open Finalist My dad mowed the lawn every Saturday morning—weather permitting—for seventy-two years. Vacations were scheduled around it, plans turned down, brunches skipped, because that lawn wasn’t gonna mow itself. When his heart started acting up and I said maybe he could think about getting someone else to do it,…
Katie E. ten Hagen 