Two summers ago, Mom and I flew to Chicago, where Aunt Cathy had lived for years. Mom’s only sibling was younger, twenty pounds lighter, single, and obsessed with cosplay. Cathy traveled to comic book conventions, Renaissance Faires, and movie premieres.… 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
I’ll always remember the way his car smelled, like stale Pall Malls and Vicks VapoRub. It was memories of court-ordered, every-other-weekend visits, chicken fingers and ice cream for dinner from the Dairy Queen, and peanut butter cups baked into the… Continue Reading
Today’s not one of my better days. I received a text from Mary saying that the divorce was final. Ours is a no-fault divorce. It was alarmingly easy to accomplish. Mary and I visited a lawyer together. He explained the… Continue Reading
Sally limped into the shoe store with a hop-shuffle. A passerby had slid the store’s business card into her hand when her heel broke in a sewer grate. She wouldn’t go to her divorce proceedings on a broken shoe. The… Continue Reading
Shortly after she turned 70, Celeste discovered that she was suddenly, remarkably, no longer allergic to cats. “This happens,” her allergist said without resentment or skepticism. “We can’t explain it. Probably has some relation to a change in hormones.” Her… Continue Reading
“So have you met anyone yet?” For a moment Pete looked uneasy. “No,” he said. “But I don’t really want to. I’m happy as I am. Emma and I still go on holiday together. I still get to see the… Continue Reading
At first, Gina thought the day was cloudless, but, leashing Tilda and stepping outside, she saw the entire sky was one diffuse, glaring white cloud. She fished around in her tote bag for sunglasses. Poor Tilda, blind and incontinent, barked… Continue Reading
High society. Twenty-five floors high. And the floors are all glass, mirrored, swallowing the lights from a panoramic city, distorting them, condensing them, fanning them out in a rainbow across the expanse of some two hundred square feet. A few… Continue Reading
The line is an unruly squiggle. I watch them wait for portraits with the mall Santa — their faces dulled by 2 a.m fevers and preschool reports, these husbands and wives who loved a boy or a girl before the… Continue Reading