Bridging. by Julie Corredato

My debut nightmare remains vivid in my mind, and not because I possess a stellar capacity for memorable dissolution, but that it has occurred in a thousand different forms since the pilot episode in 1982, when I was 8 years old. I was walking across the wooden bridge near my childhood home, and the railings began disintegrating with every step I took.  I was definitely wearing my high-top faux-leather sneakers from Kmart, making the trek from the rural cornfields to town (town being a sleepy village of 4,200 in central Illinois) to purchase a roll of SweetTarts from the IGA for … Continue reading Bridging. by Julie Corredato