Tag Archives: Short Fiction 8

The letter came one morning as Paul was feeding the baby. He was still only half-dressed. Wearing most of his clothes, one unlaced shoe. “Oh no,” he said. “No way.” The baby hammered her feet, made demanding noises. Paul read the letter twice, and it said the same thing both times. “I can’t,” he toldContinue reading “Backstreet Nursery”