With a broken-down oven, in a hotel kitchen, on an uninhabited island
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Wayne Harrison has worked as an auto mechanic, a house framer, and a corrections officer in a medium-security prison. His work has appeared in McSweeney’s and Ploughshares and is forthcoming in the Atlantic. He lives in Eugene, Oregon.
My six-year-old came out of his room the other morning wearing eyeglasses with no lenses. The frames were the same pillow shape as his mother’s, though hers were apricot colored, and these were a red tortoiseshell like a movie star might wear. He must have gotten them from Mrs. Dugan, who watches him during the summer while I’m at work.