Flycatcher

Alice Recalls the Blizzard of ’93

Ice on the scarecrow outside and her father’s bowling medal clinks against the fridge anytime it’s opened. The three kids crowd around the television and watch men beat each other with pipes. Their mother comes downstairs in a sandy-colored skirt with an aspirin in the palm of her hand. She carries it like an offering. Her hand’s a mile long and varnished with cracks like the thermometer outside and the telephone sings in waves as the first man runs far away from the second, for good.