The Admiral had been like a lighthouse for my career, a symbol of what I could be if I wanted, no matter what anyone else might say or do to discourage me.
still is the written word
Tag: short stories
Pounding throb of diesel-belching locomotive. Michael hears them passing around goodbys. None are passed to him. The ground thrums beneath his feet as the last train car rolls past. The gate rolls up. He walks toward the parking lot, remembering
© 2020 kim aaron