Mrs. Marks handed back the assignments. As she moved through the rows, I kept my eyes down, unsure of what to expect. My stomach tightened when she reached my desk. She placed my paper facedown with a deliberate, quiet precision, like she knew what was coming next would hit harder than any red ink ever could.

After class, I stayed behind, waiting for the…

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The condo on Lake Shore Drive feels right, even if I can’t fully explain why. There’s something about the symmetry—33rd Floor, Unit 3, 333 Lake Shore—it gives me a sense of balance, like I’m finally building something that matters. Frankie’s favorite number, three. A number that symbolizes harmony, responsibility, and nurturing. It’s almost like the universe aligned in this small way, making the condo feel meant to be.

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As I was walking out of the hospital with this baby girl in my arms, I couldn’t stop wondering when the nurses were going to step in and stop us. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? I barely knew her mother, and now I was supposed to be a father? I kept hoping they’d call us back, give us one more night of guidance—one more chance to get a grip on wha…

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I was in centerfield when I saw my dad talking to someone by the fence. I couldn’t believe he had walked over. He was smiling, pointing in my direction, and talking to the guy next to him. From where I was standing, I couldn’t figure out who it was. Then, the guy my dad was talking to pointed at me, but it looked like he was showing the girl standing be…

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Joey leans back, always cool, his easygoing vibe filling the room. He lets out a slow breath after hearing the news and says, "Whoa, that’s some real-life stuff right there. But hey, it’s all good, man. I know it feels heavy, but this is one of those moments where you just gotta tap into that wisdom—what I like to call 'machismo wisdom.'"

He gives a litt…

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I read the email a couple of times; I can’t believe she reached out. She didn’t live in Milwaukee; she was from Chicago. Simple enough. Without hesitation, I reply quickly, letting her know I’d be in Chicago the coming weekend if she wanted to grab coffee. I didn’t have any plans, so it worked out. She is beautiful, with a smile I can’t resist.

I didn’t …

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Whenever I get the chance, I sneak off to Duluth from Ashland with my Pentax ME Super. It’s like my own secret mission, trying to capture the raw, unfiltered side of life that no one talks about. The ore docks, the gritty streets, the worn faces—it’s different from Ashland, but it feels like something worth documenting. My camera has always been a way f…

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I watched as they carefully cut down the tree, making sure to save every usable piece. I have plans for it in the future. It's bittersweet, knowing the history and love that tree has provided—to me, to Maisey, and probably to others whose stories I may never hear. As I look out at the wide-open clearing where a beautiful forest once stood, a wave of sadness hits me, catching me off guard. I feel the tears welling up, the weight of loss pressing down on my chest. I didn’t hug the trees like the others did until winter came, the equipment came, and, in an instant, it was cleared.

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I was dead tired when I got to class from taking the toilet paper out of the trees. I slumped into my seat at the back, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. Mrs. Marks stood at the front, her eyes scanning the room. I liked her, but damn, she was intense. Most of my classmates thought she took writing way too seriously obsessing over grammar, nitpicking every detail. But I knew better. She wasn’t just demanding; she was relentless.

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"I have been expecting you," she said with a look of recognition. She caught me off guard—how could she be expecting me? I had just gotten her name from the County Assessor’s Office. I had never met Maisy Bennett. She was 97 years old and living in an assisted care facility in Duluth, Minnesota. She had a warm and loving smile; she must have been mistaking me for someone else.

I decided to play along and inquisitively asked why she was expecting me since we had never met. "Did the Bayfield County Assessor’s Office call you?" I inquired.

"Oh no, sweetie, I figured you would show up one day," she stated confidently. I was still very confused. The orderly stepped out into the hallway, and I followed her, asking if Maisy had dementia.

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I sat there listening to Alexi tell the story, I was shocked and amused by it, she was definitely a free spirit. I was trying to process it when he walked up with his wife, he introduced his wife and himself to me and his wife to Alexi. He was a local celebrity of sorts, being a news anchor for one of the TV stations in town. Alexi was also surprised by seeing him since she was asking me what she should do regarding him, it was hard for me to look at him, I wanted to laugh but I kept my cool.

I hadn’t seen Alexi in a few months, I got busy, and she was out a town a lot for work. Catching up with her was always interesting, the more I got to know her the more intimidated I became, I was not as free as she was sexually, she owned who she was and was not afraid to express herself in that way. She wanted more from me than I was willing to give, my priority was Fredi, and I was still reeling from Frankie’s decision.

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Alexi jumped out of bed and said she needed to “knock-out” 20 minutes on the treadmill. Next to her treadmill was an elliptical machine, so I decided to give it a go. I hadn't worked out since high school, and today seemed as good a day as any to start. I had dabbled with free weights a bit when I had a few roommates’ years ago, but nothing serious.

The machine was set to the lowest level when I got on—no incline, and it was very easy, I could do 20 minutes while she ran next to me. Five minutes in, I started sweating, and my heart rate increased to a level not seen in years. The first signs of worry began to hit me. “How could this be so hard?” I thought. Alexi was running fast next to me and talking about something. I wasn’t paying attention because this was a little harder than I’d realized it would be. She looked over and asked, “You alright?” I replied, “Yeah… of course.” “Just checking, your face is a little red.”

At seven minutes, I was panicking, “How the hell am I going to do another thirteen minutes?” I got another, “You sure you are alright?” and again replied, “I’m good.” I was trying not to panic, but the feeling was beginning to overtake me. She looked concerned and a bit amused. Sweat was pouring off of me. I checked to make sure the level of difficulty hadn’t gone up, it hadn’t. How could a minute seem so long? I couldn’t think straight. By the eight-minute mark, I was spent. “I might be having a heart attack,” I thought, I wanted to quit and pass out, but I couldn’t. What would she think of me?

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A large box of toilet paper sat in front of the door. “Fuck,” I mumbled. It was already 2 in the morning, and I had forgotten all about it. She didn’t. This was how she rebelled. It meant a lot to her. She opened the door before I did and shook her head.

“It’s 2,” she scolded, “on a school night.”

I looked at her in mock disbelief, shaking my head, and pointed at the toilet paper. “Really?” was all I said, mentally not wanting to deal with it. She never asked where I was, it never seemed important to her.

“This is actually perfect,” she said. “They will never believe it since most of their lights went out at 11:30!” She chuckled, “I got the good stuff too!”

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"Pater, Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus!” she said forcefully as she loosened her grip on my sweater. We were face to face, eye to eye as I was bent over her bed that was stationed in the middle of the living room. Her IV bag was empty. Frankie wanted me to check it as she was preparing the water in the kitchen to give her a sponge bath. She surprised me by how strong she was in her weak state; her hair messy, she looked menacing. She had no idea who I was; we only met a couple of times, and she seemed like she was going in and out of consciousness.

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"Don't be a pig," she said with anger and disgust, I could feel the pain from whatever trauma it triggered. I sat there wondering what I said, replaying the conversation I was having with Joey, she directed the fury at me, was it me? She made me question all the feelings I had for Frankie; did she hear me say that I liked Frankie’s body… as soon as she said it, and the way she said it left her, I am not even sure she realized it was said. Joey stared at me confused, ready to make light of the situation but thought better of it. I needed to leave to clear my head, I had a feeling of shame, was I not supposed to feel this way, don’t women feel this way?

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A new writing update comes out every Thursday!

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Everyone was giggling and looking at me. My eyes got wet. Why did she put a barrette in my hair? I am not a girl; I don’t like the stares. I sat in the reading circle. Mrs. Bork wanted me to say the letter words in the book. I won’t say them, I didn’t want to say them. She was smiling at me. I didn’t like her anymore. Why was I in Group 3? I just …

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As I walk into the apartment, her voice is in the back of my mind, "be brave." She is always there, encouraging, challenging, disagreeing, pushing. I have been brave; it has given me freedom, but it hasn’t been enough, so many levels. I knew it would start again, the endless loop of thought and structure. It feels good.

I …

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I see you sitting there, next to a white lady, your mother-in-law? I look for a ring, you aren’t wearing one. You speak softly to the teenager on the other side of her—your daughter? As I stand in line for coffee, you smile, I smile. I keep looking your way, gazing and pondering, as you slowly look up our eyes meet, you look away.... my heart race…

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