The short fiction of j hardy carroll
It is the obvious thing we find may never be understood, a phantom limb that begs to bear weight The last place we look is where we find it. Only a fool would keep looking, then. A bed showing the shape of sleeper is unmade, sloppy. The pea under the mattress is a thing you…
Hughie leaned the 12-gauge against the doorframe, handy but hidden. He stepped onto the porch. The man got out of the Cadillac, smiled at him. “Mr. Tweedy? My name’s Hoskins. I represent––” “I know who you are,” said Hughie. “If you come to talk about selling, I’m not interested.” The man’s eyes went hard above…