Kathryn J. Stevens
Cary, North Carolina, USA
As the sky darkens and thunder begins muttering in the hills, she stares at the mug
of coffee cooling between her hands. Funny that just this morning she should choose
the one that says, I Love you to the Moon and Back. The one he’d picked up at
the discount store, after one of their uglier fights. Which fight? God, she can’t remember.
They argue so easily and over the dumbest things. Last night they’d almost come to
blows over whether you should use an axe or a chain saw to cut wood. Where did that
come from? Neither of them has ever chopped wood.
through broken clouds
the touch of his voice