My daughter’s face no longer reminds me of the little girl who ran to hug me every night. The bedtime stories I told her have been forgotten. Her world is full of complexity, and mine is missing something. She crosses the stage and walks the aisle, further away from me.

Colby Wrasse has worn many different hats in his life. None of them fit very well, but he has faked it well enough to get by alright. Through these years writing in some form has flitted in and out of his life, coming to rest just long enough to catch a glimpse.