each friend serves as a bookend to our personal history. When I’ve lost my way and need direction my friends motorize me like a little engine, and when I fly without wings, they ring the bell to come down to earth. At times, arguments arise, and my friendships stray, but true-life...
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “A tank would have to hit that truck to hurt me. How about you, though?” The voice matched the face and body, deep and timbred by thirty plus years and a southern birth. He looked over Maggie’s shoulder and she twisted to see her car. The hoo...