Citron Review: How to Make Soup
One of my earliest flash-fiction publications, this piece begins:
“My father pulls the footstool I made in woodshop last year to the edge of the counter so I can learn how to de-bone a snapper for avgolemono, and my heels are squared on the pointe shoes I’d painted in pink acrylics. His hands are leathered from years of work in diner kitchens, their rough edges making noise when he drags them against something soft like a blanket, though now they glisten, his knuckles reflecting the overhead light, his fists 75 watts of fish guts. Nancy, his mistress, shuffles behind us to the fridge and turns with a refilled glass of White Zin, a straw peeking over the rim globbed with fuchsia…”
Click here for the complete piece.