Tegan and Raul. They kissed a lot. They were that kind of couple. The ones that lonely house wives fantasize about while they scrub piles of dirty dishes over their kitchen sinks. They talked a lot, joked a lot too,… Continue Reading
Sitting outside a café in Paris, a latte and a breakfast tart sit delicate and pristine on Lindsay’s plate, patient for her to eat and sip. It’s quiet here for a tourist, and Lindsay feels at home. She’s killing time… Continue Reading
Because the once-upon-a-time boy made it here with wizened face and wise eyes, there’s no more uncertainty of the cold boxcar and each town rolling by, asking, Is this the one? Is this the one? Is this the one? Only… Continue Reading
The old woman encountered her younger self at a café. It was a classic Seattle café, a favorite haunt that they’d loved and would continue to love for years. The ever-present golden aroma of warm coffee and cinnamon and cream… Continue Reading
Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God? I do. Please state your full legal name, social security access code, and the nature of the crime or crimes committed… Continue Reading
My sister always amazed me with her lack of interest in everything. She had asthma as a kid. Every winter, as I dragged myself out of bed to attend school, she would be allowed to sleep in late. She was… Continue Reading
Rhonda preferred to think of herself as a scandalous lush, which sounded more acceptable, more Dorothy Parkeresque, than what her last lover (hardly a heartthrob, but good company on at least two memorable occasions) had called her — which was… Continue Reading
She was already dead, the doctors told us. Had been dead for quite some time. There was nothing to do about it now, nothing to do but what had to be done. It wasn’t sinful, they said. We were just… Continue Reading
I knew about her in advance of course; the Hutchings Center had called before they released her to me for subsequent therapy. “Hyper-religiosity. No longer violent, but needs to talk more, and to a woman, I think,” the psychiatric nurse… Continue Reading
“Hit me,” I say, sliding onto my favourite bar stool. “And make it strong.” Maudie eyes my dirt-encrusted skin and bloody fingernails as she grabs the kettle. “Oh honey, what’d she do this time? Bury you alive?” I nod. “Fire… Continue Reading