She spoke careful, obliterated sentences, each one well made but fearful of meandering. Messages to friends, she would thumb out on her phone then near-immediately delete. This was not her life’s only false self-assurance. Did you know that asphalt dawns in nature? Bubbling tar, geocarpic around the bones of prehistory? Whatever earth you step upon is as permanent as tissue.
Her messages, their replies, et cetera loitered in others’ pockets or purses or bedside bibelot drawers. She understood. She birthed every thought and weaned them. But they were on their own now. Strays.
J. Campbell was born in Jasper, Alabama. His writing can be found elsewhere, in print and online.