The angry gray storm wanted little Jesse. An oak tree by the shed was an ideal bat. A 90 mph gust did the trick. Job done, it moved on.
A snow-drop on a fawn’s nose, a leaf adrift on a gentle stream; these most beautiful things could not be surpassed. Then her baby was born.
Every little boy’s dream: fast, funny, and had no fear of frogs, spiders or snakes. And, she had extra peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
In addition to the exemption, the accountant says, your son’ll bring you a nice tax credit. Father beams. Once a year, he finds me of value.
After such a long day, Jen tuned out all the honking and yelling as she entered the freeway. Then she noticed the baby seat was missing.
He saw all the tiny signs that divulged his boy had played there: the toppled books, the crack on the TV, the faulty hasp on the lockbox.