You go to pay for your groceries, and your credit card is declined. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but you didn’t expect it to be today. You look at the letters dancing across the card reader’s display… Continue Reading
Mom had all but thrown us in the backseat of the station wagon, her rage boiling up front, as we sat in a gathering twilight and watched the Ferris wheel spin its rainbow jewels around the sky. No cotton candy,… Continue Reading
At the Health and Human Services office, we stand in a long, narrow hallway waiting for our chance to make our cases, get our food stamps straightened out or turn in paperwork to keep them. We are strangers, but the… Continue Reading
The bell rings when a person enters the store, the sound light and musical. Like sunlight, it cuts through the shadows in the open room to the desk at the back. Nils has a small lamp lit on his desk… Continue Reading
Natalia’s wrinkled, spotty hands fluttered over the piano keys like a butterfly dancing on the breeze. Elegant, beautiful, serene, the sound of the aging instrument felt like a long lost friend. Her favorite was The Seasons by Tchaikovsky. Each movement… Continue Reading
I’ve never shot a gun, and suddenly, Quinton is pressing the grip of a long-nosed revolver into my palm. I don’t anticipate its weight. The chilly steel. We’re cousins, but I’m new to life in Parched River. I’m used to… Continue Reading
Paul looked down at the screen in his hands and sighed. It was the last day of September and he could see the looming winter months of unemployment as clearly as he could see the storm gathering overhead. One bolt… Continue Reading
Bill sat on a bench by the village green. He figured it was a Sunday as the little shop was to be closed all day. He read an old newspaper he’d found until he got so hungry that he couldn’t… Continue Reading
That summer I was sixteen. I had a job at a dog groomer’s. I cleaned clumps of hair out of shower drains. I brushed down show dogs. I clipped long, crescent shaped toenails, trying my hardest not to cut the… Continue Reading
Yuly and I trekked down to El Malecon to find Don Manuel. The old man spent his days riding his antique three-wheel bicycle up and down the sidewalk adjacent to Havana’s seawall to hawk the used goods his daughter —… Continue Reading