by Deirdre Roche
Our car was the size of a toaster, bought out of environmental convictions and a lack of funds. The hill to the cabin was steep and muddied from snow that fell the night before.
“We could push,” Paul said.
I put the car in neutral. Together we mounted the first steep climb. We panted and held our knees. Our breath came out in white puffs.
“How are we gonna get back down?”
“I think it will be easier in the other direction,” he said. He might have smiled but his face was covered almost completely by his scarf. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 