Music came from across the aisle. I wasn’t easily offended, but I was hyper aware. The spring clip that kept my sour cream and onion chips closed was a yellow duckie. “What?” she said. “Would you like to borrow these?” I asked. I had them in my hand. Earbuds. Practically …

I wipe beads of sweat from my temple, my eyes straining from the intricate task of chiselling the image of a little girl. It needs to be just right. When I work, time stops. The world around disappears; I’m blind and deaf. And there’s nothing like the feeling of turning …

The sun is blinding and my shades are just beyond my reach. A breeze kicks up and cools my damp skin. It feels good. The tree limbs sway and groan and through their leaves I can see some birds circling. Carrion birds maybe. They smell death. Just waiting me out. …