The Drought

In the beginning your words were only droplets of rain that never really got anything wet. Your earliest murmurings were like those barely perceptible flyspecks of moisture that make pedestrians stop and hold out their hands, palms towards the sky, waiting for the slightest confirmation of what their noses and cheeks already suspect. Your first …

bedbugs don’t make for a very happy birthday, even when they’re only in your imagination

My birthday was on Monday, but instead of waking up to breakfast in bed, I woke up to another day of dealing with bedbugs. I had spent the previous day with box of black garbage bags and a day's wages in quarters, transporting clothes from the bedrooms to the laundromat in an endless procession of …