The boy passed the joint to his grandfather. A bulbous white cloud enveloped them, Locking souls together by generations: Generations walking backwards, Generations drowning under design and democracy, Generations pacing below sea level, Slave ships cresting high above their abandoned spirits. The Elder’s gray eyes dared look to the boy, A solitary moment imprisoned between ...

The wet tile floor firm against my cheek. If I could have drowned in my tears… I would have removed my life vest without hesitation.   I shielded the truth by turning on the fan and shower water, by locking the bathroom doors, and by keeping this tale an undisturbed secret— until today.   I ...