Shelby agreed to the surgery only after the two biggest narcissists in her life, Dr. Schrodinger and Dr. Elks, advised that her weight had reached an apocalyptic level. In truth, she had always been obese — unrepentantly feasting — or… Continue Reading
I had never seen anyone play the fiddle like her. To be fair, though, I hadn’t seen those many fiddlers playing on stage. I am not the most musical person. Jan was, and he reckoned that she wasn’t that good.… Continue Reading
A man lives in my bedroom closet. He is tall and bearded, with a middle-age paunch. He mostly keeps to himself. Lately, however, he has been rearranging my clothes. At night I hear him rattling hangers, and in the morning… Continue Reading
Old Mr. Isaac Strickland clicked off the lights, shut his rickety front door, walked across the porch and down the path to an old tire planted with petunias — 41 steps. Tilting his hat to block the sun, he set… Continue Reading
Hello. Please… sit. Relax. See? The snow’s not so bad a seat. How high have you climbed? You don’t know? Well… neither do I. When did you start? You don’t know? Well… it doesn’t matter now. What a wonderful view.… Continue Reading
You’ve come here to see— To see. To see her. That’s right. Ethel. Your wife of sixty-six years. You remember her: hair that was always in rollers, an apron knotted around her waist even though she stopped baking once she… Continue Reading
Just after he had died but just before he was sent back to his body, busted-up and requiring major medical attention, Geoff was allowed to ask God a question. He was not prepared. He kept looking down at his body,… Continue Reading
We met at art college. Dorothy was the one with talent, everyone saw that. And, I imagine, no-one could see what she saw in me. I got thrown off the course at the end of the second year, but we… Continue Reading
This morning I scrubbed the apartment more thoroughly than was necessary considering I’d declined all visitors, both the well- and ill-wishing kind. I ignored the phone. The battery will be dead in a few hours and I’m considering letting it… Continue Reading
The autumn’s morning fog has thinned to steam by the time Roland Adder’s rusted-out-red pick-up reaches the grove’s edge, dilapidated horse trailer in tow. Beneath swaying skeleton-finger branches, maple and oak leaves crackle under his bowlegged gait as he plods… Continue Reading