I used to climb up on my parents’ roof to watch the sun melt like butter over the rose-and-cerulean horizon. Twenty years later, the evening sky from my parents’ place is still that beautiful.
Small stone, Vol. 2, #11
Posted bySamuel Snoek-BrownPosted insmall stone, Texas, writingTags:small stone, Texas, writing
Published by Samuel Snoek-Brown
I write fiction and teach college writing and literature. I'm the author of the story collection There Is No Other Way to Worship Them, the novel Hagridden, and the flash fiction chapbooks Box Cutters and Where There Is Ruin. View more posts