He turned a corner in the Big Barn hardware and saw a woman at the far end of the aisle gawking up the skyscrapers of faucets, basins, and vanities with an open-lipped smile so shocked with delight that he stopped… Continue Reading
Momma homeschooled. I’d kneel in the back seat of our Buick on a carpet of fast food wrappers counting the contents of the trunk. This was Momma’s version of education, having me remind her what we had in our stolen… Continue Reading
They were on their way to buy wine and cheese and pick out a movie at the video store. It was his first time meeting her parents and he wanted to impress them even though she had said they were… Continue Reading
After 30 years, one of the first things you mention between bites of a California frittata is that spring evening. I remember too. Both of us had been alone in Manhattan. We met up and saw Anthony Hopkins in Equus… Continue Reading
“See you on Friday at The Jac!” Nancy yells from the back of the black cab before it rattles away down Old Dale Street, rear lights hazy through the mizzle. My raised hand falters mid-air as I take in what… Continue Reading
My paddle glides through tranquil waters, reflecting my image but obscuring what lies beneath. A fish jumps skyward then plunges into the swampy depths, startling me out of my trance. I look around. Everyone is still here, slinking through the… Continue Reading
On Tuesday, I finally meet him. He comes in to the post office where I work, says he received a phone call telling him there was a package. Tony, who is helping him at the corral next to mine, chomps… Continue Reading
There’s nothing wrong with Snug Harbor. It’s a classy, dignified, and orderly place. The shows start and end right on time. But of all the jazz spots on Frenchmen Street, it’s my least favorite. It’s just a little too orderly.… Continue Reading
I shouldn’t shag Evan. I told myself I wasn’t going to, but here I am at two in the morning in Evan’s apartment, and there is definitely going to be sex. I’m not quite sure how to get out of… Continue Reading
I leave a trail of anonymous messages behind me everywhere I go. Nothing too obvious. I do not write on toilet cubicle walls in Sharpie or spray-paint back alleys at night, I don’t tag shop fronts or scratch my name… Continue Reading