Tea tasted sweet or bitter depending on her mood, though she always made it the same way every evening. It was bitter on this day of mourning. The teaspoon clicked against fine white china decorated in blue ink. The pattern… Continue Reading
On the morning Bill Somers put his dog down, I was not on my porch. Most mornings I sit with tea in hand watching as the sun crests Bolduc Hill and the cool night air takes on a warm, heavy… Continue Reading
Marya stared at the whitish-yellow coffee beans in front of her, shoulders hunched. “Try again,” Dad snapped. Marya bit the inside of her lip. She was trying, but her coffee beans stayed stubbornly un-fermented. She’d never be a proper coffee… Continue Reading
The leaning man — I will not use his real name in this report — suffers an unusual deformation of the ankle-foot joint. Rather than rising straight from the heel, his ankles bend sideways, causing him to list significantly to… Continue Reading
I’d just returned from the Himalayas and was brewing tea. The kettle whistled. The doorbell rang. I poured water into my mug, on top of a bag of Hairy Guy in the Tea Bush tea. The bell rang again. I… Continue Reading
You stole my kiss goodnight. Listen. This is how it happened: Every night I closed my eyes and dreamed of angels watching over me, knowing me, loving me, longing for that connection of humanity and holiness that only dreams can… Continue Reading