by Kelly Q. Anderson

A marriage can end over morning coffee while waiting on Google results for criminal defense attorneys. Legs can fall out when you rush to open the smashed-in door of the car, what about the baby. A mole, a gray shadow, a lymph node can erase family vacation reservations. A lie can plant itself in the flower beds until all we see are beautiful lies growing over the Colonial’s facade. Buyers love that, the realtor will say. Every day we step outside fully prepared for the wind to knock us over with a subtle breeze.

Kelly Q. Anderson is a Chicago-based writer and the Vice-President of Off Campus Writers’ Workshop. Her work has appeared in Lucky Jefferson, Capsule Stories, Months to Years Literary Mag, and Litro. She holds two degrees from the University of Iowa and a certificate in Diversity & Inclusion from eCornell. In 2021 she was shortlisted for the Five South Literary Short Fiction Prize.