Red pieces pepper from my son’s scissors, staining the white linoleum kitchen floor. Somewhere in the multiverse, the red isn’t paper. I imagine them as fish scales in this universe, autumn leaves in ...

by Zan Miller The Denny’s Line Cook I worked as a server at Denny’s when I was 20. I lived up in Cumberland in February; dirty snow clung to my white snow boots. There was nowhere to sit in the “sm…

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