“I hate funerals,” I whisper. “Who don’t, boss?” Ah, Lomax. In his 5’2”, motheaten glory, he’s doughy as flapjacks and almost as aware. “Assassins, morticians, beneficiaries of juicy wills, and we other lowly disciples of greed and grift. At least,… Continue Reading
I pull dresses and pants, jackets and blouses from the closet and stuff them into plastic trash bags. Given the pandemic, I couldn’t find a charity to take Pearl’s clothes even though, for all the COVID patients she treated, she… Continue Reading
Ivan uses the L.A. Daily News as a placemat because his wife – rest her soul – once told him it is easier to throw out a stained newspaper than to wash a stained placemat. He prefers the obituary section;… Continue Reading
Ms. Alice FoyBerkshire OH 45044 Dear Ms. Foy, I’m writing in reply to the multiple obscene comments you’ve left on our company’s Testimonials page as well as the scorched-earth social media campaign that you’ve undertaken against us in the weeks… Continue Reading
The podium is uneven on the grassy outdoors, and Anthony feels it wobble slightly as he rests his notepad and palms atop it. The hum of the wind lilts as he clears his throat and loosens his black tie just… Continue Reading
It was a big hole, deep, long, narrow. The dirt that had come out of it mounded some distance away, nearly black against the equal mounds of snow plowed from the roadway. He stood at its edge, just outside the… Continue Reading
It was sudden. And that’s what had made it so hard. One moment they were driving down a cozy, country highway and enjoying the quiet companionship that only comes with years. And the next, the car was in the ditch… Continue Reading
There’s lots of green, and it’s very bright, and that seems wrong. My head feels like a beehive, and there’s a slight hum, from crying or maybe gritting my teeth. There are lots of words, most of them heartfelt but they… Continue Reading
The hat I want to wear — the black one with the little veil — is in the basement. Four-year-old Alice follows me down. She wears a new black jumper and patent-leather shoes. I remind her that we have to… Continue Reading
The old captain turned the urn in weathered hands. Two witnesses stood by. I was one of them; a friend of the captain, a fellow fisherman in the past, though I did not know the deceased well. He twisted the… Continue Reading