What happens when you observe something familiar and imbued with memories? You don’t just see it, you feel it, and it feels you


A woman I knew as a girl stands behind a torn screen, her turquoise blouse sailing down to jeans. A beagle sleeps on the landing. A black Jag’s parked in the driveway, its driver’s side mapped with scratches, dings, and dents. The flag flaps on a steel pole clamped to an eave.

Breeze blows life in the screen, moving it back and forth. The doorframe needs paint. The woman sees me in my car. Her eyes soften.

A dark voice scrambles through the house. A man enters one window and exits another. The door swings open. She calls in the dog and weeps before abandoning her post. Two silhouettes face off in the back room. I watch the screen breathe.

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