Mort Slavin rushed through the kitchen when he saw someone stumble outside his house. In his haste, he ran full force into the dining room table, doubled over trying to catch his breath, and by the time he got to… Continue Reading
She was a ghost. A voice called out, “Elle?” Elle turned her head, where she saw a nurse standing by the door, looking into the room that housed Elle, her father, and the admissions specialist. Elle stood up, but it… Continue Reading
I’m lying on the floor of the playroom. The ugly carpet is scratchy against my face, my nose is running and my sinuses are playing a drum solo. I rub my cheek back and forth: It keeps me awake. I… Continue Reading
When I was young my brother left for the war. He died several months after in action. He was a hero by all standards. Incredibly jealous was I, but I was born wrong and would forever be denied. A year… Continue Reading
I crack open the encrusted seal on my dehydrated eyes. Even without my glasses I can tell; I fucked up. The woman on top of me isn’t my wife. She’s my best friend and business partner’s. She sinks down onto… Continue Reading
As line after line of code scrolled up the little screen, Miles felt the weight of Ken’s hand on the back of his chair. “What did you want to show me? Carol’s retirement party starts in 15 minutes. Gloria’s is… Continue Reading
The shepherd ran a practiced eye over his flock, counting methodically. He tutted, pursed his lips, and whistled. The clear note carried far across the escarpment. There came an indignant bleating from a tumble of wind-blunted rocks, and his two… Continue Reading
A lifetime ago, I smoked a Washington High School record, running the mile in 4 minutes and 23 seconds. Now, at fifty-eight, I want to run the mile again, albeit in twice that time — to prove my angina is… Continue Reading
High school began and I was determined to be different. I grew my hair out all summer so that I could wear it up in a high and slightly off-centre ponytail. Gone was my chin-length bob that framed my round… Continue Reading
For years Teresa ate pasta twice a week, on Tuesdays and Sundays, and it had become, she believed, a necessary part of life. She found refuge in a warm bowl of bucatini or farfalle, even after the most hectic days… Continue Reading