Tegan and Raul. They kissed a lot. They were that kind of couple. The ones that lonely house wives fantasize about while they scrub piles of dirty dishes over their kitchen sinks. They talked a lot, joked a lot too,… Continue Reading
“Hasenpfeffer,” Cecil said. No sign of a break in the weather. Just gray skies and drizzle to the horizon on the interstate. “Shit,” his wife said in the passenger seat. “I was doing voice to text. I have to start… Continue Reading
We lie shoulder-to-shoulder in the grass, almost touching. The distance between us is atomic. “Do you think we’ll ever go to space?” Jemima says, watching the sky. “Us specifically? Like, as a species, are we heading towards everyone going to… Continue Reading
I told him that when the candy jar was empty, we were over. It was a joke, of course, my way of lightening our eventual breakup. Despite the fact I was quite certain we’d get married, have kids, do all… Continue Reading
The hum of the television, the chatter on cellphones, the unrelenting bass beat of the music made Alex uneasy. His eyesight was going, his hips ached, but his hearing remained fine. One of the little jokes God plays on old… Continue Reading
Jeffrey sleeps right on the edge of the mattress, like he might fall out at any moment. I used to worry he would — I still do, I suppose. It would do his bad hip no favours. The space between… Continue Reading
The fire had been burning for eight hours, but the earth was still not soft enough. Just as Harold predicted. It had been an unforgiving winter: sub-zero temperatures for months, ice storms, and buckets of snow. It had taken Harold… Continue Reading
After sex, instead of cuddles, Amy asked for the cat. Lulu protested that they just did this yesterday, but Amy was insistent. So Lulu went to the bathroom, crouched down on the rug, and changed. The thing about shapeshifting was… Continue Reading
November 3, 1960 Beloved Brother Alwyn, I thought you might like a photo of my new parish home at Mount St. Bernard. Leicestershire will never hold the fondness of my heart like Caldey Island. I miss the whitewashed buildings, my… 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