by Chris Allen | Mar 4, 2026 | Short Story
I. The woman who came in on a Thursday in November did not look like someone who had missed three nights of sleep. She looked like someone who had missed years of it, her face drawn down around its bones the way the skin of a fruit draws down when the moisture inside...
by Chris Allen | Mar 4, 2026 | Short Story
I. The highway unspooled ahead of Daniel Marsh like a long dark thought, two lanes of cracked asphalt cutting through the flatland with the indifferent geometry of something that did not care whether it was traveled or not. On either side, the fields pressed in close...
