May 8, 2023

Since The Moon Went Away

By Kathryn Silver-Hajo

Photo by Ánh Đặng on Pexels.com

When Corinne feels on top of her game, she’s a tangerine-stripe cat strutting around the neighborhood, taking in the scents. But today she’s a Shiba, body curled tight, snout tucked into furred dreams. She yawns, stretches, howls at the rain until clouds part and the Flower Moon blossoms full.

About the Author

Kathryn Silver-Hajo is a 2023 Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best American Food Writing nominee. Her stories appear or are forthcoming in Atticus Review, The Citron Review, CRAFT, Emerge Literary Journal, New Flash Fiction Review, Pithead Chapel, Ruby Literary, and others. Kathryn’s flash collection Wolfsong and novel Roots of The Banyan Tree are forthcoming in 2023. She reads for Fractured Lit. More at: kathrynsilverhajo.com; twitter.com/KSilverHajo; instagram.com/kathrynsilverhajo

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