Author: K.C. Hill

For several years, my little sister had ballet on Saturdays, and while she was dancing, Mom went fabric shopping. They’d be gone all day, eating out at a restaurant together. These were the best Saturdays of my youth, not...

The giant yellow flowers in Gramma’s garden are taller than I, with rough faces, dark brown, wrinkled. Their fuzzy stems stand thicker than my thumb and I‘m not allowed to touch, do not touch, do NOT touch, do not, stand here...

The boy looked like Chris Pine, and his name was Derik; he liked another girl. He’d chase her around our school’s grassless playground, she’d scream. It looked fun, so I joined. Another boy started to chase both of us girls...

Mom’s in the pantry, shaping dough, thick and caramel-brown, into doll figures. They’re like gingerbread men but fancier, because they’re girls. All the shapes are round and smooth, sturdy. Two cookie sheets, side by side, are...