“On a Whale Watch, Sober” by Erin Peraza

“It’s just that I can feel my heart. I mean, I can always feel my  heart. It’s in my ears, in my knees, in my shoulder blades. Not  all at once, you know. It just — it moves? It’s in my palm, now.”

Carla’s coffee’s gone cold, so she dumps the final swig in  the harbor. “You have a reservation for seven people, sir.”  She taps her clipboard. “Says so right here.” Continue reading

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