
What a Ghost Is
by Andrew Graham Martin
We lowered our chicken tenders as one. A glob of barbecue sauce dripped off the end of mine and fell with a splat onto my crotch.
“A man?” Leigh asked her mom.

What a Ghost Is
by Andrew Graham Martin
We lowered our chicken tenders as one. A glob of barbecue sauce dripped off the end of mine and fell with a splat onto my crotch.
“A man?” Leigh asked her mom.