Karie Fugett | Nonfiction

Cleve and I met in eighth grade where we briefly “went out” before breaking up, because I thought he had a crush on one of our school’s cheerleaders. We remained fairly close, carefully dodging an intensity we were too young to address. We lost touch after high school.

Karie Fugett | Nonfiction2018-12-29T10:59:38-04:00

Geneviève Robichaud | Nonfiction

She tacks the quote on her wall. Not the virtual kind, but the smooth white one with the round corners. The sound of a kettle whistles in the kitchen. Outside, the rustle of a few trees. This is Montréal in the spring. It is the sound of being nine hundred and eighty kilometres west of the Atlantic Ocean.

Geneviève Robichaud | Nonfiction2018-12-29T10:56:03-04:00