Francine Witte


By Francine Witte

Like every other night, Finkus creaks the splintery door, slips out of his only shirt and folds it over a…

For Mommy, who is always crying

By Francine Witte

in her bedroom like a secret, only we can hear it through the door. My big brother, Lou, took off…

Me and Eddie on the Boulevard

By Francine Witte

waiting to cross.  My heart tick, ticking like a stupid clock.  Eddie and his dark hair forest, his blue eye…

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