Author Unseen

Jake hovers at the intersection—as he always does...

Finally I understood my death.

Traffic passes, and Kwame waits. If he did cross the street, cars would simply drive through him, but this is the discipline he’s learned: the afterlife can’t be hurried.

Before I jumped in that fountain, I’d been on the verge of turning three.

It all began with the funny papers, the goddamn funny papers.