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Tag Archives: catastrophe jones
What’s a good day? Is it when he wakes up calmly and takes the pills she leaves out for him? Is it when he waits for her, if he gets up before her? Is it when he doesn’t break a … Continue reading
Squealing brakes. The unmistakable sound of steel on steel on glass on pavement. That was the thing about McGough — you didn’t really need an alarm clock. She rolled over in bed to find his side empty again, and got … Continue reading
This is the last time, he told himself. The last time I will pick her up. The last time I’ll mop up puke and wash blood from her hair and have to sober up because I can’t drink while I’m … Continue reading
“It’s called cortical blindness, Ms. Jones.” The voice sounded tinny. “It is often temporary–” Relief washed over her, but then he kept talking. “–but in your case, considering how your cranial trauma results from not only from the baseball bat, … Continue reading