Empty Spaces

Even a small house has many stories. Ours buckled beneath the bulldozer’s blade, and upon the torn and trampled earth, she bled out ghosts.

Even a small house has many stories. Ours buckled beneath the bulldozer’s blade, and upon the torn and trampled earth, she bled out ghosts. Floyd’s papa built that house to sit in the middle of their land, watching over their crops and critters, and every morning Floyd stood on the edge of their little back porch, seeing and smelling all the chores set …