He calls me Babe, always a nice treat, to be someone’s something. When I, confused by the familiar romantic nature of the word, ask him why he applies this honorific, he deadpans “because you are one, a Babe.”
Tag Archives: Short Story
When a Boy Loses His Dog
My mother tells me not to lose the dog. When I tell him Molly is lost, Edward hustles me along like older boys do, into the forest, past the park on the edge of our block. A summer morning sun lets loose oppressive humidity that edges my brow with sweat. We bounce up and overContinue reading “When a Boy Loses His Dog”
