Every night I watch people disappear and it comforts me. I find myself religious about abandoned cars, forsaken wallets stitched into quilts of dead leaves, bloodhounds, unassuming witnesses, suspect lakes, runaways crouching outside rest stops, crow-like. I wasn’t this way as a child— death-obsessed, mystery-crazed — or even three or four years ago. Three or […]
Caleb Bouchard
Caleb Bouchard was raised outside Atlanta and recently earned an MFA in Creative Writing from Georgia College, in Milledgeville. His writing has previously appeared in Saw Palm, The Headlight Review, Adelaide, Hanging Loose, and other journals. Link up with him on Instagram @calebbouchard.