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leaning over the banister, her Christmas waist making the wood swoon and creak, a warning sign if there ever was one...
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The end is rehearsed over and over;/
in a world without heaven all is farewell.
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Steve Bancroft’s future wife showed up at his door that same night, slamming her hand loudly against the door and shouting for him. “Steve, Steve, wake up. Damn it, come on. You forgot to pick me up at the airport. Who are you in there with? I said wa
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When I died, she said, she was going to have me cremated and put my ashes in the cats’ litter box.
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Crea grew up above a pet store and now she dreams of cats. There are too many of them to name, a slinking mess of calico, tabby, tortoise-shell, black and white. There are more each night. They whisper to her, words made of hissing mewls. During the…
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He was still on the ground...
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The contrast can be summed up in a sip.
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Sometime that night I heard one; you get so you know when they’re coming in low down the valley or set up high over the coastals and I was sure about it.
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And without further ado, The Author.
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She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.
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At this time of night, the fluorescence makes his eyes bleed. The muscles in his legs are tight; walking's more of a necessity than anything else. Alexander pushes the shopping cart down the endless gray tile floors of the Grand Union on 35.
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you were very very small, you were everso small, you were like – the tiniest creature, hopping about on one leg
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"Lately I've been thinking a baby's the only way I might be able to hang on to you."
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My wife and I are cat people. Indeed, that's how we met. We met at a wake.
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Great Uncle did stunts in silents and shot a man in a cowboy one-reeler, then vanished to the hills like Roy Earle in High Sierra.
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I watch my brother carry her into the hospital, and I love him with parts of myself I didn’t know were capable of love. I love my brother with the space behind my eyes, the skin between my fingers, the ends of my hair, the crease in my neck. I love him wi
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“Phennias Jessup is his name. That’s his death’s head scroll, an hourglass, bats, spirals and angel’s wings on either side of the top part of the stone. "
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I knew it was just a matter of time...
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“Lunge to your right,” the woman on the screen instructs. She is easily six-months pregnant but still looks fit and healthy. “Now show off your baby.” She centers herself, splays her arms, and thrusts her belly out towards us. “Lunge to the left. Now show
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We’re all competitive and drunk.
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She’d once read the Time-Life Encyclopedia on The Universe and became obsessed with the woman from Alabama who was singled out, by a rock from a far place, in her sleep.
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{Chapter iv of Undermind} "What do you think of the light in our city at night?" It spreads out in every direction, following the hills and valleys of the city, visible into the far distance from the Penthouse party room on the 44th floor. "Gorgeous!…
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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.
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They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.
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Because if they’re wavering, it's about the coin, always about the coin.
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And the voodoo pins pinged as, folding and imploding, she was reduced to a petro-chemical puddle.
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I’ve been such a fool, so reckless and untrue.
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French pee runs stronger, less minty. In France the world' a pissoir.
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He'd tend the door himself in high lace up boots, orange rhinestone hot pants, a tight black t-shirt, and black boa with orange swirl.
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