Authentic Roads

I was ordering a large café au lait at a coffee window on Cleary Avenue when the text came in.

Marisol Duarte owns the diner. Twenty-six years now, same corner of Route 9 and Elm, same cracked vinyl

Vonda found me between the drive-thru window and the shelf of vaccination returns. She pressed a bottle

She Took My Autistic Daughter's Window Seat — Then the Captain Asked, "Who Knew Michael Torres?"

"You've got seven days, Gail. Then I'm changing the locks." Nicole stood by the kitchen

Maya Ruiz was eleven years old the day the scout showed up at the chain-link field behind Roosevelt Middle

I was wiping fingerprint smudges off the driver's side window of the crimson 720S when Todd let

The note in my wedding dress said: Know your place. It was written in red ballpoint on the back of a

Ruth Callahan was on the roof before sunrise, the November wind cutting through her wool sweater and

The room above the print shop was supposed to be the venue for my fiftieth. One big window looked out