There is something soothing about a novel—the way that it can transport you from an often traumatizing, confusing world into one where boundaries, intentions, and the difference between right and wrong are more defined. There is comfort in recognizing the “bad guys” of the story,…

The Author sips coffee. The coffee is cold. The sun is rising, god bless. A child, one of his own, screams from downstairs. A ball bounces. Several thuds in succession. He sips coffee. It is still cold. Grounds in his mouth. He spits them out,…

Downstairs, he pours himself more coffee from the pot he made yesterday and heats it up in the microwave. The coffee comes out hot, thanks to microwaves. Very small waves energizing, exciting, vibrating, accelerating, colliding, rubbing molecule against molecule, creating heat. At least that’s his…