Evelyn N. Alfred is an information professional, poet, social media content curator, and prose reader at Linden Avenue Literary Journal. Her writing can be found at The Offing, Literary Orphans and upcoming in the [SOFT] anthology by MIEL. She’s originally from Fresno, but currently lives in Mitchellville with her wife.
Nostalgia is the only town with a window
See my hand pressed there? A tiny fist of Morse code in the dark. The soft pounds of my flesh against the window don’t reach my mother. She leaves with the man in the brown car that drinks diesel fuel. Alone, my wet fist knows the magic of the rotary phone. Godfather comes, turns fist into hand, hand into hug. Minutes. (Minutes?) Later she returns with a milkshake and that man. She had to take Godfather’s angry words, my renewed tears and swallow. What flavor is forgiveness?