The first mistake had been saying yes. Micah knew that almost immediately. The second mistake had been not finding a convincing excuse during the following week. By Friday afternoon he had drafted at least six. Work emergency. Family obligation. Migraine. Food poisoning. Sudden death. Not his own. That felt excessive. Still, by the time Saturday … Read more
The armchair belonged to Abuelo Ignacio. Not officially. The house contained other chairs. Perfectly functional chairs. Several of them were even comfortable. None of that mattered. The armchair by the window was Abuelo’s. Everyone knew it. Including Lucy. Which was why she headed directly toward it the moment she escaped table-setting duty. Ignacio lowered his … Read more
The fountain is older than the rest of the park. Not broken. Just… worn into itself. Paint faded in the spots where hands land most often. Metal dulled by years of use. The button stiff, like it expects you to mean it. Lucy runs ahead of him the second she spots it. “Uncle Micah, look!” … Read more
They don’t plan it. Daniel is lacing his shoes in the driveway, working the knot tighter than necessary, when Micah comes out already moving, already in that half-elsewhere state. “You heading out?” Daniel asks. Micah nods once. “Yeah.” Daniel hesitates a second, then pushes off the car. “I’ll come with you.” Micah glances at him. … Read more
The highway curved along the coastline in long gray ribbons, ocean on one side, cliffs on the other, Driftwood humming steady beneath Micah’s hands. The driver side window was cracked just enough for salt air to move through the cab, cool against sun warmed skin. Somewhere behind him sat three empty coffee cups, a rain … Read more
The kitchen is already warm when he walks in. Not hot. Not crowded. Just… occupied. Something finished cooking recently. The air still holds it. The low hum of the vent fan, the soft clink of something being set in the sink. Familiar sounds, steady, unremarkable. Carmen doesn’t turn right away. She knows it’s him. He … Read more
Music has quietly changed my creative life over the past year in ways I never expected. Not in a dramatic “artist discovers inspiration on a mountaintop” kind of way. More like opening a window in a room I didn’t realize had gone stuffy. For a long time, I treated music as background noise. Something pleasant. … Read more
Kitchen. Late morning. Something is on the stove. Like it always is. Micah leans in the doorway while Mom moves between the counter and the sink, steady and unhurried. There’s a loaf cooling on a rack. A dish towel over her shoulder. The radio low, something familiar. She glances at him once, quick and thorough. … Read more
Maybe the strangest thing about writing a long story is how many different forms it takes before it ever becomes a finished book. Parts of Tidewoven exist in notebooks. Parts exist in playlists. Some live as disconnected scraps of dialogue typed into my phone at inconvenient moments. Some are held together with random notebooks, arrows, … Read more
There’s something worth knowing about the Tidewoven playlists before you press play. They are rarely literal. Most of the time, I am not asking, “Would this character actually listen to this song?” I’m asking a very different question: “What does it feel like for this character to live inside this moment?” The playlists are less … Read more