The heater blasted out its eighty-degree setting and I was still shivering. A record cold they say, but in Chicago, it was hard to believe that a day in history could be colder than today. Everything thermal from my socks… Continue Reading
Home is where the heart is. That’s the saying my mother liked, cross-stitched and hung in the hallway. Now I wonder—if I don’t have a home, am I heartless? I was on the move, deciding to sleep in a real… Continue Reading
Rhonda preferred to think of herself as a scandalous lush, which sounded more acceptable, more Dorothy Parkeresque, than what her last lover (hardly a heartthrob, but good company on at least two memorable occasions) had called her — which was… Continue Reading
I see them all; the titles people don’t know they have floating above their heads. Usually they’re pretty benign. “The Father” or “The Architect” or something else run-of-the-mill. I thought I’d seen them all a thousand times. I was young… Continue Reading
He only sees her sometimes. Maybe once or twice a year, if that, and only then when he’s caught off guard. When, preoccupied with exhaustion or the grim necessities of survival, she slips his mind for a moment that allows… Continue Reading
The girl on the corner has made paper cranes for as long as anyone can remember. Last month, one of them came to life. Now live cranes are everywhere. Walking our crowded street, pecking at litter for scraps of value.… Continue Reading
I used to wash dishes at an upscale restaurant. The type of place where the help was supposed to stay hidden from the customers in case our existence would offend them. The restaurant resided next to a river that was… 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
I’m not scared of the dark like other kids. Daddy and I used to go treasure hunting in the dark all the time. The two kids who share a room with me always cry at night. I tell them that… Continue Reading
Matthew and John met under the Fourth Street bridge as they often did. But this was no ordinary meeting. Tonight was a special occasion. Each man carried a cardboard box under his arm which had been wrapped up in great… Continue Reading