The arrangements of lights on the cracking towers are a segment of Orion’s belt, the handle of the Big Dipper and a section of Andromeda’s spine.

I didn’t see the little boy run up to Bandit until it was too late. The kid was about four and was excited to see such a big dog. He reached out his hand to pat Bandit’s head and Bandit lunged at him. The leash was wrenched from my hand, leaving a bloody

When it starts looking bad enough, I bundle up and head out the door.

The combined smells of ocean breeze, grilled cheese sandwiches, incense and sweat and burning herb that wafted over from Shakedown, along with windblown notes from tinny car speakers all rolled into a potent sensory cocktail he hadn’t tasted in far too l

"I tell you about ten other men who want to love me and two I could kiss in the smoking room of a jazz club, you wonder if I’d love anyone."

My flash kept going off. The museum officials are strict about such matters. Sans flash! Sans flash, Monsieur!

The window washer started saving pigeons whose feet were wrapped in fine black thread, the result, he informed me, of picking through trash bins. They are very intelligent, he went on to explain. (Right, trash bins, I thought to myself.) People tend to av

I was talking to this famous female artist at the reception, (as if I knew anything,) “If you want to be taken as a serious artist now, you have to have one long serious eyebrow.” There was no reaction. So, I said: “Also, you should kn

He just up and dropped dead one day, Charles said. Pretty tough on Karen, I opined. Charles looked the other way.

A pair of flowers leaned on each other, almost holding one another, their petals hanging off by the edge. Emi touched one of the petals to hold it up, but the dark mist appeared and made it fall off.

My life was growing on me like a soft Scottish moss

I could hide away in this tower But I am Rapunzel And I will let down my hair

I had never seen anyone die. For first time in my life, I was afraid, even more than when my step-dad got drunk and roughed me up. When Dale Franklin got shot last year standing on the corner outside the laundry-mat it took the ambulance forty-five minu

“I’m making a dress,” she said, feeding the pages through the sewing machine. He didn’t know how to answer. “Are those my books?”

Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…