No, I don’t want a cigarette. *** Everything was going according to plan. I met my contact in a dingy bar in the bowels of a low-class brothel. A cesspool of thieves and perverts looking to ply their sick fantasies… Continue Reading
The small, brown package that had arrived for my wife contained two bamboo cutlery sets which she was now inspecting at the dining table. In each set was a pair of chopsticks, lacquered and contoured pleasantly to the hand. The… Continue Reading
I got one job. Watch the birdie. Or should I say the Escalade. Really, I got two jobs, watch and then tail. Could be worse. Could be delivering packages to the docks like Petey. No thanks. I’ll take just sittin’… Continue Reading
“Eureka!” the man exclaims to his wife as they settle into Adirondack chairs on their favorite lounging dock, nestled in the shade on the far edge of the lake. “It’s perfect. The end of the rainbow.” The water sparkles gold… Continue Reading
I heard footsteps come into the house. Then, silence. As young girls, after we helped plant vegetables in the garden, my older sister Ammara and I would fill our straw baskets with mangoes and climb to a high place on… Continue Reading
Liji gulped as she approached the Eastern River’s sandy shores where the Dragon resided. Taking small steps, a numbing pain radiated from her bound feet, cramped inside her silk lotus shoes. Her mother adjusted the flower pinned to Liji’s hair… Continue Reading
Mrs. Jane Kotwitz eyed the lesson plan with curious disapproval. Typed neatly with plenty of white margin for notes, the plan for third hour simply read, “Paxton — reading. He takes the lone seat by the windows.” Mrs. Kotwitz’s eyes… Continue Reading
Andromache thought that when they burned Hector upon his pyre, they should just burn the rest of Troy with him. It was to happen soon anyway, without him to guard their gates, and she had told him as much, the… Continue Reading
I could picture it clearly. I’d hear her squeaky-trainer footsteps on the landing. She’d put her head round my bedroom door. She’d widen her eyes at me — her version of a smile, an ‘I’m-glad-to-see-you, let-me-take-you-in’ sort of gesture. She’d… Continue Reading
“You know this isn’t a real holiday, right?” Klepto Bayley Klepac asked. “I know it’s not a real holiday,” I said, “But I like to celebrate it, so I do.” Bayley gave me a confused look, paid her breakfast check,… Continue Reading