Author: Ron

     He texted, “TMR?”      An upturned thumb emoji came back immediately.      “845?”      “Sure.”      He sent a disturbing ghost, a skull, and a knife.      The next…

      He plopped a handwritten note on the breakfast bar rather than send a text because, honestly, she couldn’t reply to the note and ask him to pick up the…

      Piled high and wide and tight with every belonging they owned, Brett’s Silverado pulled away from the apartment with a billow of dark, poisonous smoke streaming from the dual…

      “Are you claimed?” the sonorous voice inquired, seeming to appear from thin air. She twitched, dropped her rake, and clutched her hands to her breast. “Holy crap on a…