“Mr. Thompson, Dr. Wheeler will see you now.” I follow the nurse into the narrow hallway and through the rigmarole of bodily metrics. In the examination room, she asks me to remove my shirt. I comply, blushing, directing my vision… Continue Reading
Epiphany: I need lemons. A tumble of lemons, a volcano of fresh explosive citrus, the obese mamas with that extraterrestrial shine, not those dinky rough-hide goblins lurking at the bottom of produce boxes. Fifty will do, I think. No, seventy;… Continue Reading
We zig-zag along a crooked stone bridge towards the tavern. Mist blankets the water, which is riotous with koi, though it’s a clear day elsewhere — a hologrammic projection of the weather from hundreds of years ago. Our daughter, Ruyi,… Continue Reading
Mile 1: Cold morning in the mountains, the trail cushioned and redolent with decaying leaves. My heart’s racing with anticipation, hands jittery — but feeling good. I’m doing this, doing this. Wish I could squeeze Brad’s hand, drink encouragement from… Continue Reading
The cotton absorbs the tea’s bitterness, the paroxysmal pain. It engulfs him, fills him. The last time Wind had known such pleasure, there’d been a needle hanging out of his seeping, abscessed arm. Then he’d received the Knowing Sky’s cryptic… Continue Reading
Silver tobacco fields streak by under a cloudless night sky. The road stretches on ahead, flat and straight. Hot air whistles in through the cracked window. My eyes flit between the rearview mirror, the speedometer, the road. Only a few… Continue Reading
As Brian struggles with the condom, there’s a creaking outside the cabin. His hands freeze. He and Natalie lock eyes, their breath smoking. They listen for several seconds — wind scattering leaves across the wraparound porch, branches shivering. Brian slides… Continue Reading
You can’t find your keys in the morning, so your wife drives you to work. At dinner, it seems, the salt is lacking, but when you attempt to add some more, the shaker is bare. The only consolation at the… Continue Reading
“Honey,” my wife shouts from the living room. “Call the mechanic. Professor Bigglesworth messed the carpet.” After taking a few moments to process what she has said, I enter the living room and find Professor Bigglesworth frozen to her favorite… Continue Reading