That Monday was the worst day of Christina’s life. The rebel inside her felt it might actually be the best, but the rest of her didn’t see it that way. It started when her manager summoned her into his office. The time was a couple of minutes to nine. She’d barely had a moment to take off her spring jacket, the last birthday present from Justin before they’d stopped giving each other presents. “I have to let you go,” her manager told her matter-of-factly, his steely eye

He began drumming the fingers of his right hand lightly against the tumbler, its cut glass cooled by the ice and what remained of the bourbon. It was an aimless rhythm that signified nothing save his apprehension. He ground out the butt of one cigarette and shook another from the half-empty pack on the polished mahogany bar, snapped open his silver lighter and put flame to tobacco, drawing deeply. Nearly ten years he’d gone without nicotine. Then came the prospect of seeing h

She lived for the cool night breeze, like a cloud in the sky, free and easy, always wandering. I often wondered if she’d just wandered...

There was something about the house at the corner of Humboldt and Spruce that gripped the imagination and drew the eye to it. It wasn't...

(Note: the following are excerpts from Rebecca M. Blackwell’s book published in 2022. Here is a link for the full copy). For most people,...