The Margins
The Margins are where Tidewoven breathes between chapters. These pieces hold moments that do not need a full scene to matter. Glances. Memories. Pressure points. Quiet turns that deepen the world without reducing it. They are optional, but not incidental.
The Margins exist in a kind of narrative superposition, where multiple truths can coexist before the story chooses a single course through them.
The Margins do not fix events in place. They are emotional truth rather than a narrative record. They may echo the book, contradict it, or wander sideways from it entirely. What matters here is not what happened, but what was felt. The Margins hold the heart and weather of Tidewoven, not its final map.
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Margin: The Next Trip
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…
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Margin: Water Shared
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!”…
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Margin: It’s So He Can Breathe Again
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.…
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Margin: Songs Micah Listened to Before Everything Got Strange
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…
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Margin: Water Given
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…
Sometimes I write series of Margins that are all tied around one theme or one longer story. Explore those below.