My mother used to tell me a story when I was a young child about a woman named Maria who loved roses more than anything. She told me this story often, but it wasn't until I lost what I thought was my ...

As I look out the long window of the unfamiliar office building hall to the distant palm trees moving gently in the breeze, I imagine the time not so long ago when they were full of life, happily danc...

Then the door opened and an anvil of sobbing on the floor and doubt lifted slightly from my chest as I looked up hoping to meet his eyes. I cannot count how many times those deep brown