“I tried to call,” he said, “but I couldn’t get through.” Like this was war and his enemies had circled the town. I hadn’t heard from him in a year, thought he’d fled to France.
But he was holed-up in Cape Breton, freezing his ass off, still writing about a chain-smoking priest who falls in love with a killer.
“Why don’t you drive up in the spring? I have a couch. I’ll sell the book and get a bigger place. We can fish all summer. In the fall, we’ll fly to Spain.”
Then I knew how my novel would end.
About the author
T.L. Murphy is a retired carpenter, a published poet, and an avid skier. He grew up in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, U.S.A. and emigrated to Canada in 1978. He lives in Canmore, Alberta, Canada, on the east side of the Canadian Rocky Mountains about 20 miles from the Continental Divide.
He is a performance poet and has shared the stage with many prominent Canadian poets. He is appointed Poet Laureate of Canmore, a position he will hold for one year. His poems, fiction and non-fiction have appeared in a variety of journals and anthologies and have been translated into Greek and Chinese.