Mom was a hairdresser, but she couldn’t afford to rent a salon, so women kept coming to our small flat. Every day, when I got home from school, I stepped through a powdery mist of hairspray and kissed Mom on the cheek. She smelled like a wet coconut.
Tag: life
If I Were My Sister – published in Passages North, Neutrino Short-Short Prize, Honorable Mention
If I were my sister, I wouldn’t be like my mother; our mother: the flesh behind the neon sign that screams GIRLS.
Concrete Worm – published in Hayden’s Ferry Review, selected for Best Small Fictions 2025
"Dad said people like him are meant to be loyal to what hurts them."
We Live In Yellow – originally published in FlashFlood, Finalist for the Best of the Net award 2025
"Pepper-black phone numbers stick to our fingertips like crushed ants as we pick out his name..."




