She likes to hear about her childhood. "and then what did I do? What did I say after that? Did I really do that?" "Yes, Boo, you really did." We're walking and then we're not. I wait and she doesn't... Read more →

A face to shatter a mother's heart and most days fold her soul in half. I don't know what the world sees, but it can't possibly miss the vulnerability. That one moment in a series of photographs, the sort of... Read more →

There is a small stone house on the corner of Columbus and Saratoga, unoccupied so long neither Nina or April can remember when it wasn't just empty, sitting on the corner like that. Whoever owns it now has been trying... Read more →

I think we were in Donegal because that's where I got my jacket and I only recall spending that much money in one place. I know we were looking for them, both the linens and the jackets, and there they... Read more →

Maybe it was the editor, I don't know. All writers have an identifying syntax, or voice, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much. Some voices announce themselves at the opening sentence; or at the very least, the first paragraph. The voices... Read more →

Eponym's Pub attempted to commence business at the tail end of the Miocene Epoch; this was a financial disaster as most of its client base was still trying to find the land bridge. The staff attempted to collect unemployment benefits... Read more →

Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →

I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →

I fell down the rabbit hole in 1982, two months after my eighteenth birthday. I was in no way prepared for a hard tumble from the nest. There were three things that kept me off the street: a friend who... Read more →

Kitty is counting her granddaughter's fingers, can you see? It seems we've stopped counting fingers and toes as a ritual. We assume everything is where it's meant to be; at least for those of us living and breathing in the... Read more →