Doris is in her seventies, something she always thought could only happen to old people. She is becoming increasingly forgetful and is beginning to worry about it. Her main problem seems to be in recalling names. Today, the view from… Continue Reading
As Dave lowered his head, she swiped her hand across his face. Fingernails scored his skin, and he felt blood on his cheek. Her face showed no emotion. Her eyes, deep in the dark shadows of her sallow complexion, were… Continue Reading
Deirdre flexed her arthritic fingers. Today they’d have to do exercises to move their hands. She wheeled up to the door and shut it. Craft Day could stay outside. A moment later, Gerlinde knocked and walked in. Tall, square-jawed, fine… Continue Reading
I admit to looking down on them. Old men, stooping, dragging their miserable bodies and depressing outlooks into the paths of those still drinking life. The embers of their fading passion spent on letters to local papers complaining about technological… Continue Reading
“Our health plan doesn’t cover this.” “I know, but it’s the only hope you’ve got. The doctors are saying that it’s a serious case, that your liver will fail within weeks and that you’ll lose brain function with it. It’s… Continue Reading
Owen was out in the shed, sorting junk for Edith’s rummage sale. He slid an oak hutch aside and there it was; a hole in the dusty floorboards, the size of an apple, in the center of the shed’s floor.… Continue Reading
Romo always had considered his afternoon nap a luxury, a perk of retirement. But one day that nap was more an escape, a means to knit a suddenly raveled sleeve of care. A doctor had told Romo that he would… Continue Reading
Carrying the water-stained box of wineglasses he had found under a stack of Bach Bimonthly in the basement, Simon stepped into the cramped galley kitchen of the decaying townhouse N.C. State University provided him and his wife, Tara. He’d hoped for… Continue Reading
Doll in hand, Sophie dances along the flagstone path into the garden, and pulls herself up onto the lichen-spotted wooden bench. “Are you there?” she calls, and waits for an answer. She sits, wordless, knees pulled up in front of… Continue Reading
“This house is too big,” Nora said at breakfast. Craig turned away from the TV, puffy eyes magnified by his bifocals. “Those retirement communities are maintenance-free. We should think about moving.” Moving? She meant hiring a cleaning service. “Oh, please,… Continue Reading