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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021
Submitted to Contest #124
The worn, creased paper is soft against the rough pads of my fingers. Growing up, I’ve watched my dad fold and unfold this mysterious form of directions more times than I can count. Some are born with a sense of direction, like my father. I was not. Flipping it one way and then another does little to help with which end goes up. The lines cross, circle and swirl, blend and divide, and a dull ache forms in my head from staring too long. Is that a road or a river?A buzz in my pocket signals an incoming text, reminding me how easy it would be t...
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