The line for the fear merchants stretched three blocks. Juana’s hand sweated in Nick’s as they inched forward. She’d sold fear once, the night she crossed the border. It wasn’t courage like the No Fear Association claimed. It was a… Continue Reading
Back then, I imagined my postman was Arnold Schwarzenegger, and he’d have a massive coronary and die under the weight of all my Valentine’s cards. Why Arnie had to die was best left for the pioneering Austrian therapist I’ve still… Continue Reading
Reynard limped along the leafy path, his wounded hind leg folded up. This was a part of the forest he traveled rarely, but from the splashing up ahead he knew his destination was near. Pressing through a flowery thicket, he… Continue Reading
Her last name escapes me. Milagros something from the depths of Guatemala. She sits on a metal folding chair, shoveling plastic spoonfuls of rice and beans from a paper plate on her lap into the mouths of her two pre-schoolers.… Continue Reading
“There’s a face in it.” “A face? I don’t see it.” She pointed at the shape on the ceiling above their bed, twisting her wrists and fingers like a belly dancer as she gestured to the parts. “See? Look. It’s… Continue Reading
The street outside Dregs Coffee Hut was bustling and noisy. A pink and yellow awning flapped above the café door. Inside, the air was cooler than normal; cashiers wore sweaters under their aprons. Students jostled in line for coffee and… Continue Reading
I went to the Chevron, and you must forgive my reasons, but there I went. This was a time when my beard was big and full and free as a bear frolicking through a campsite. There was a line. And… Continue Reading
At first glance, there was darkness. Impermeable silence. Motionlessness. For the spectators, only a feeling existed… a pulsation within and without: rapt submergence. Then loud chaos clanged and tinged, settling into a single bang of a gong. Alas, illumination. Clouds… Continue Reading
Mile 1: Cold morning in the mountains, the trail cushioned and redolent with decaying leaves. My heart’s racing with anticipation, hands jittery — but feeling good. I’m doing this, doing this. Wish I could squeeze Brad’s hand, drink encouragement from… Continue Reading
Samantha had spent the last week in suspension, waiting for doctors and nurses to give her some kind of real information instead of vague hints and reassurances. Her laptop, journal, and book had gone untouched in her bag. She had… Continue Reading