BY SEAN DIETRICH This is not my story. It was told to me. In fact, I’m hearing it for the first time, just like you are.The year was 1982. The old man climbed out of a rust-red Ford. He was ancient. He walked with a shuffle as he hobbled into the supermarket....

BY SEAN DIETRICH Traffic is heavy. There is a blind dog in the passenger seat of my vehicle, emitting strange and exotic smells.The dog’s name is Marigold. We call her “Marigold the Magnificent.” Or “Marigold the Marvelous.” Or, if she’s chewing another pair of my...

BY SEAN DIETRICH I am mid-20s. I am a cub journalist for a tiny local newspaper with a circulation of about six. My biggest dream is to write for the Tallahassee newspaper someday. But it’s not working out. They’ve turned down all my work.But I’m still trying, God...

BY SEAN DIETRICH I am writing from a plane that is stuck on a runway. It’s raining. Hard. I have a screaming baby behind me. Angry passengers surround me.I have to be in Atlanta tonight, but it’s not looking good.We have been on this god-forsaken plane for an hour,...