Short Story The Baby By Micah Vander Stouwe When Mary felt off-kilter, as she often did these days, she’d sit in the guest room-turned-nursery with the lights off, letting the scent envelop her. Things had settled as her family descended the gentle hill toward summer.
Poetry Driving By Micah Vander Stouwe When I see taillights for the first time in hours, I think about how, in my mind, each day unhooks itself from the next…