Some nights, here alone in my house, the words I want to write flit about like moths at a bare bulb, and all I need do is reach my hand out and grab them. This is not one of those nights. I phone Nikola, wondering if he will be awake at two in the morning. […]

I only saw him once, the origami man, but in my neighborhood, for months you could see evidence of his passing wherever you looked: a paper crane, leaning against a napkin holder at the coffee shop down the street; a pyramid of expandable balloons piled inside the newspaper dispenser outside the liquor store; a different […]