Creative Nonfiction

He looks like every other doctor I've seen. Long white coat, to signify he’s above the other orderlies. He's more important, he’s more, he’s a man. He doesn’t have to wear the stiff skirt or smile of a nurse's uniform. I drown out the doctors scolding and look down at...

Downtown Richmond was a knotted, muscular jungle of cement. Tangles of overpasses, thickets of freeways, and jutting skyscrapers obscured the afternoon’s bleak light. As we drove, my driver talked about his daughter’s exorbitant private high-school, and claimed he’d...

Elias sits in front of me on the soft, L-shaped couch, the scent of old marihuana puffing up into the air every time either one of us moves. He fingers a purple post-it note I´d given him not too long ago, a simple distraction while we wait to be called back into the...