“Maybe you heard,” he says, ripping a rainbow of long strips from plastic shopping bags and lacing them through the seat of his folding chair, “about the woman who disappeared on Selander Bridge yesterday.” He pauses to wipe sweat from his deeply wrinkled brow with his shirtsleeve. He tears and knots the strips that will temporarily transform his perch, fade and disintegrate again around its rusted metal frame, the only vestige of the chair’s original form. His gnarled fingers work the chair like a loom. “When her arm grew hair like a dog’s—she vanished.”
An excerpt from the short story by Debbie Ventimiglia... love it – thanks Debbie!