How could anyone sleep through that? He sounded like an asthmatic chainsaw. The sound wasn’t the worst of it, though. It was those gaps, when the sound ceased, where she hoped that maybe, just maybe he’d stopped — snoring, breathing.… Continue Reading
My sister was thirteen when she died. All crooked and soft white like a dogwood flower floating on the water. I heard my mother sobbing on the phone that she had broken her neck nearly to a ninety-degree angle, a… Continue Reading
A nurse unplugs me from something. Aggie bites her lower lip. Our son and daughter and their spouses look ready to cry. Even my oh-so-world-weary teenaged grandson swallows hard. If I could, I’d whisper, “Rosebud.” Anything to lighten things up.… Continue Reading
Grandma’s cell phone was full of dead people when I found it. I suppose that’s the way things work out over time, though. I’ve got one in my phone now too, although it wasn’t always like that. It started two… Continue Reading
I’d like to begin by saying Johnson’s a liar. Johnson’s a goddamn liar if I’ve ever known one, but I’ll be shot and hanged ’n banged if he ain’t real entertaining about it. He’s a funny guy, Johnson. Real funny.… 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
Derek Hayes, Grammy winner and chronicler of the 70s and 80s, was an inspiration. At least, Sophie thought so, even if her classmates had never heard of him. Derek beat heroin addiction and several bankruptcies, but always came out okay,… Continue Reading
Sometimes in the winter, I come here when the tide is just turning to start its inexorable march to the ice-lined shore, and the sand crunches underfoot and the wind stings my face, and I watch as the water glides… Continue Reading
Before you go, you can revisit any day from your life, said Death. Señora Damaris sat in her musty sofa. The TV chattered soft and mindless and the late afternoon light silhouetted a fly on the window curtain. Damaris exhaled… Continue Reading
We are sitting on two iron chairs you pulled from the rubble, watching the dying, honey-coloured flames caress the remains of the smouldering café, the metal at our backs still warm. Dark smoke, filled with the sharp scent of burnt… Continue Reading