“My parents started it,” he said, sliding onto a vinyl stool. “I finished it. Added the ‘mc’ for luck and the ‘io’ for music.”
mcpelandio.
mcpelandio didn’t believe in borders. Not the ones on maps, anyway. The ones in people’s minds? He tried to redraw those daily with a crooked smile and a cup of coffee that was never quite warm enough. mcpelandio
Say it slow. Say it fast. Either way, you’re already smiling. Would you like this adapted into a poem, a song lyric, or a different tone (e.g., sci-fi, melancholy, humorous)? “My parents started it,” he said, sliding onto
That night, he played the harmonica on the dock until the lake itself hummed along. People said the fish started swimming in rhythm. A old woman on the bluff lit a candle and swore she saw the stars lean in closer. mcpelandio didn’t believe in borders