My Tangerine Girl

She had tangerine hair. Thick and tangled like an unkempt bush. Every spring after the snow had melted, we hurled ourselves into the backwoods, and like wild boars, we charged.

Follow the Fish

The earth could shatter to pieces, she thought, but he’d never let her go. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and picked at his hair as if it were a flower petal.

Second Thoughts

She thought of his body swaying back and forth as the tide receded, boots rushing over him as bullets flew past. Or had he made it to shore? Had he trudged through the sandy beach? Had he fallen while tending to a brother?

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