Short Stories

Amanda Chancey drummed her fingers on the black tablecloth. She sat across from the fortune-teller again, hopeful a new love relationship was on the horizon. Unfortunately, she had a habit of only hearing what she wanted to hear, grasping onto the wrong nuggets and taking off with them, only to return to the psychic looking for new answers and the promise of romance.  

I’m April and I’m four. I like it out here on the porch in the sun. There’s birds and plants and trees and squirrels on my daddy’s farm. I just sit here and smell the air and watch. I like it outside better than inside. So do my sisters, Maggie and Daisy. We share a room. Our room is where the warm stove is, so it feels good when it’s cold outside.