The Salt of the Storm
The smell of dry earth turning to mud is the first thing that hits the back of my throat. It is a sharp, metallic scent, like copper coins held in a damp palm. I remember the feeling of cold water sluicing down my neck, the way my clothes clung…
The Salt on the Skin
The taste of a humid afternoon is always the same—a thin, metallic tang of river water mixed with the dusty sweetness of roasted earth. I remember the feeling of grit under my fingernails, the kind that stays long after you have washed your…
The Path We Walk Together
I was walking home from the grocery store this afternoon when a group of neighborhood kids started following me, just for a block or two. They were laughing about something I couldn't quite hear, their voices bright and sharp against the quiet…