Most guys give you chocolates for your birthday. Or flowers. Johnny got me a Madagascar hissing cockroach. Now, there are websites that let you name a cockroach after a loved one. No, Johnny actually gave me one, plus its fish… Continue Reading
“The old orchard was good to us. Nearly 30 years,” my husband sighs. “But the replanted version will be more efficient.” He shoots me a sideways glance, his invitation to ask. “Do tell.” I smile as I angle my eyes… Continue Reading
Desi pulls the hoe slowly through the fine soil. He knows that Lena is watching. They have planted this garden many times, and Lena is a stickler for straight rows. He looks over to Lena for approval. She sits on… Continue Reading
She looked good in sundresses. But then again, what girl doesn’t? Z. was a woman of enormous appetites (for breakfast she took eggs Benedict with grapefruit and half a bottle of Gaston Chiquet) who lived in a garlanded townhome halfway… Continue Reading
His lashes are so dark against his skin. Unable to resist, I kiss him gently on his temple. He stirs, swallows, and rolls on his side away from me. I run a hand softly over his shoulder, down his side,… Continue Reading
“I read minds,” I told the man across from me at the speed-dating table. He cocked his head skeptically. “I do. Literally. Think of a number.” He did and I read him. “Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine,” I said immediately. That was pi, an… Continue Reading
Emory ran the numbers and frowned: 20.1K Instagram followers, a 3.98 GPA, and zero boyfriends. How had she gone through four years of chemistry classes and emerged with only a handful of disastrous first dates? Picking up her glitter-encrusted phone,… Continue Reading
He plucked his toothbrush from its perch, fixating for a moment on the black ceramic holder adhered to the tile wall just above the bathroom sink. He counted the holes: one, two, three — the recurring ache crept into his… Continue Reading
It was the end of the day in the dermatologist’s office. Only I and another masked patient remained in the socially-distant minor procedure waiting room. When the receptionist summoned a woman to complete paperwork, she called a name that even… Continue Reading
During my previous visit to Houston’s Neurosurgery Center the doctor said the procedure would triple my life expectancy, but I’d forget most things. “Sepia tones,” she said when I asked what memories would look like. “Photographs bleeding color until they’re… Continue Reading