The Quiet Between Heartbeats
I’ve been trying to write you, but the words keep settling in the wrong places. We spend so much of our lives rushing toward the next thing, convinced that the value of a day is measured by how much we have conquered or how far we have traveled.…
The Weight of a Shared Path
The smell of damp pavement after a sudden Florida rain is thick, like wet wool and crushed clover. It clings to the back of the throat, a heavy, humid reminder that the air is always holding something. I remember walking beside someone whose…
Castle Hill Lighthouse by Mike DooleyThe Keeper of the Dark
I walked down to the pier tonight just to watch the last of the daylight slip away. It’s a strange habit, I know, but there is something about the transition from blue to black that makes the world feel honest again. I stood there until the…