Interradar
A tall, thin black woman in her thirties approached the walkway in front of their table. Janita quickly glanced at Blake, and then again. “There’s number one,” Blake said. “One for one.”
The Schedule
Henry looked back down to his schedule. It looked more detailed and busy than it had five minutes before; like Hieronymus Bosch logged it, like hyperactive spiders had danced in ink all over the page.
The Last Villagers
What a surprise this is for her. To see him sleeping in their bed, a solid shape. No longer just a ghost, stealing away then stealing home while the family slept.
Dancing Alone
He owned a sweater that she desperately hated. A girl he dated in college bought it for him while learning abroad in Copenhagen. Every time she saw him in it she was reminded of all the past arms that had embraced him. She tried to destroy it...
Time Capsule
My lover has the uncanny ability to leave footwear in inconvenient places: a slipper tilted against the wall, a flip-flop at the bottom of the stairs.
1982: Part One
Narrative portrait of a poor Albanian cleaning woman in the week before she finds her boss' murdered body.
When Tough Decisions Didn’t Exist
A bohemian couple's relationship ends when their first child is born.
Popcorn Chicken
We walk through the park and you tell me about your sister. The one with the wooden leg.
Sex and Eyelashes
All winter from within the walls of the cellar, it heard her footsteps, her muffled voice. It felt her presence from afar while it slept, while it lurked in corners, while it stalked spiders from behind stacks of musty boxes or papers.
Dad’s Vernacular
Dad obsessed over our gravel driveway which was overrun with potholes and bumps. Thus the quest for Road Fill was born. We weren’t allowed to throw anything away. Tin cans, cereal boxes, yard waste, half-eaten pears, legless Barbies- all Road Fill.
Recent Comments