It always began and ended in the same way. May heralded the end of the college semester with heartfelt goodbyes, posted grades, and celebratory cocktails. June brought slumber with no alarms, lazy snacking, and beachy reading. But July tapped at… Continue Reading
Getting married wearing nothing but whipped cream seemed like a terrible idea. So Gemma thought: why not? That is to say, she knew why not. But even so. Then too, what would Bryan wear? There would a terrible imbalance in… Continue Reading
Hank sat listening to Oliver describe the car for the fifth time, trying to look engaged, though he couldn’t help the occasional glance past the young man into the kitchen where his pitcher of martinis was waiting. If he suggested… Continue Reading
It was curious, Dr Harold felt, that he should have been working on his Fibonacci paper that December. As a rule, he tried not to notice workplace festive japes. The explanation he felt most comfortable giving himself was that it… Continue Reading
As I was preparing for class, Lois Blaylock, a fellow member of the English department, burst into my office looking like she had just caught the dean in a compromising position with a chicken. She had been my mentor through… Continue Reading
Professor Henri Dubois materialized behind a rock outcropping. Dizzy and disoriented, he fought the urge to throw up. His wrist tracker said October 9, 1578. A half hour until the auto retrieval yanked him back to Carlton University in 21st… Continue Reading
Across the face of every freshman streaming into the lecture hall on the fall semester’s first day was the same unspoken question: “Am I in the right class?” Professor Bill Meriwether had every intention of answering that question — just… Continue Reading
A fly buzzed around my head as I strode down the corridor leading from the chapter house to the quad. The sun shone though the Gothic windows patterning the concrete floor. My oxblood Doc Martens chose only the sunlit squares.… Continue Reading
Please don’t let the door bang, Prof.! Sorry, can’t talk. Or move. Slightest twitch and things will fall apart. Thank goodness you always seem to read my mind. Wanted so much to tell you all about it. This four-by-four-foot sheet… Continue Reading
She’d rather it was a tumor. Rachel drove her hands deep into the cool meat. When she squeezed her hands tight, she felt the soft thickness work through and surround her fingers. She set one hand free and cracked an… Continue Reading