The claw of the hammer backed each nail out by its neck. The moaning, shrieking, the stuttering—a bright relief from frowning nails twisted loose and falling underfoot as the narrow-shouldered girl walked from beam, to joist, to stud—undoing every nail her great grandfather had driven. Perhaps now, peace.
Jonathan enjoys playing out of tune solos on his daughter’s ukulele while she demands he stop. He enjoys writing very short fiction and very long fiction.