• The Origins of Petrichor: A Modern Tragedy by Ross Dohrmann

    You examine a painting, a scene frozen at the moment when the mood shifted from chaotic to calm. I am the painter and you one of two subjects, observing the scene as if watching a Greek tragedy. You recall that before the scene, you felt light and you heard my words, but they were empty in your ears. You did not feel my anger, but you saw it burst from the knots tied in the pit of my stomach like fireworks. There was nothing I could do to censor or control my actions, and so for a brief moment you left your body and let mine purge. My eyes were…

  • Bones by Ross Dohrmann

    I’ll never forget those final days of Summer before He left and everything changed. He was always there, always, right after school He’d come home. During the summer, which He said is when the “dog days” are, it was even better because He didn’t go to school, so He could play and ruffle my neck like He always did. The last few days He was with me a lot, and laughing, and playing, and so much walking. Then one day He was sad and the next day He was gone. They think we can’t keep track of time, but we can, we do. He left one year, and five months,…