I work a mixture of peat and shredded leaves into the hole, then arrange the bulbs pointy end up before blanketing them with a few inches of dirt. Planting crocuses is supposed to keep me from offing myself in the… Continue Reading
Did I tell you about the geranium I grew from a cutting? I stole it from someone’s front garden as I raced for a bus one day. This huge unruly bush — which someone should have pruned — spilled over… Continue Reading
Breath by breath, step by step, he wills his body toward the darkening skyline. Tired legs, weak legs, legs wet from trudging through the snow come to a gradual rest. Pine trees flitter in the wind, a biting wind that… Continue Reading
If I ignore the door hanging half off its hinges and the swallow’s nest surveying the dust from beneath the exposed center beam, Nana’s cottage is little changed from fifteen years ago, when Dad left me here to “find my… Continue Reading
I found it on the counter by the microwave, under a stack of yellowing envelopes. It was sticking to the bottom of the pile and I would have missed it altogether when I picked them up had it not leapt… Continue Reading
I found the three men sitting in a London restaurant, gathered around a table, deeply engrossed in studying a map of England’s West Country. I was intrigued, so went over to talk to them. Their names were George, Harris and… Continue Reading
From where he lay on the roof, Ballard caught a flicker of light from her bedchamber. No more than 500 feet. A clear night, low breeze. Perfect to take the shot. So it had come to this. He sighed and… Continue Reading
I noticed a loose thread on the collar of her blouse — god, I can’t stand that — and I began to pull on it, couldn’t help myself, couldn’t not do it. “Leave it.” She slapped at my hand, but… Continue Reading
Chip started out as a little bump riding Tom’s right shoulder blade. No fair, he’d whisper, Mom always buys Sally’s favorite ice cream. And, Jerry’s only popular cuz he’s got a pool. And, Prom’s for losers. Chip grew as Tom… Continue Reading
There’s this ball, pink-seamed and spinning fast, its coordinates locked on the northern perimeter of my left eye socket. All the proof I need that God hates me. No surprise, as my earthly father was never that fond of me… Continue Reading