The Darkest Joy
May Homer, Alaska
I cover my nose then cough. A plume of dust rises and I drop my hand.
What a dump.
I hear a horn beep and turn around. The taxi driver who gave me the ride from ERA, the local air carrier, waves.
I give him the thumbs-up and he drives off. My eyes shift back to the run-down log cabin. I keep my eyes on the wide plank door as I climb the thick steps, the deep graining and...