That’s where proper stories begin, don’t they, when the handsome stranger arrives and everything goes wrong?
Franny BillingsleyFather’s silence is not merely the absence of sound. It’s a creature with a life of its own. It chokes you. It pinches you small as a grain of rice. It twists in your gut like a worm. Silence clawed at my throat. It left a taste of burnt matches.
Franny Billingsley