Authentic Roads

The wedding at the restaurant on Grand Avenue was supposed to be the calmest day of my life.

They ask me why I couldn't just move in with my mother. Fine. I'll tell it my way, the way

I was closing up the Bluebird Diner on Route 9 when the kid came in. Saturday night, just past eleven.

Maya didn't know the address. She'd only been to the apartment once, months ago, and her memory

Louisville, Kentucky. Marjorie Kessler had run the books for Kessler Auto & Diesel Repair for thirty-one

My mother-in-law gave me twenty-four hours to pack, because her grandson's baby was going to be

I drive a plow for the county up in McCall, Idaho. Seventeen winters on the same route, Valley County

I was tearing open a stack of junk mail at the kitchen counter, half-listening to the rain hammer our

Meredith Fallon had been dry-heaving into a gas station toilet on Route 9 outside Asheville, North Carolina

The Gate Agent Who Watched Marcus Reyes Board His Last Flight I've worked the counter at Gate C22