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The summer before cancer—the summer of the boy/friend, the summer before Max started high school, the summer when all the decisions about blowing apart their marriage were made—they drove to Martha's Vineyard. Astrid had insisted she wasn't going, rig
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She stood there with ladylike maturity; her eyes were frightening with an unforgiving look, visible in her tears that pierced the very core of Oryn’s heart.
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I remember a time when Calvin, my husband, was like Winnie the Pooh and I was a jar of fine Provençal honey. No amount of my sweetness could satisfy his craving for me. He would spread me on his toast with butter at breakfast and mix me with peanut butter
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221620
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Frankie's girl had a habit of making any guy she walked past turn his head and lose his entire train of thought-we all knew it. Frankie was the only one who asked her out to have lasted long enough and worked hard enough to the point of putting a ring on
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96320
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there are monsters in my bed
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120511
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I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…
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143111
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Methuselah. That’s what they call him, the regulars that ride my train. Other things too, but Methuselah is the one that sticks in my mind. It seems to fit. It’s not as cruel.
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she knows that's the natural place of a man, above everything, closest to god, eyes slowly filling with rain.
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The next post card was of gondolas in Venice. “Have never not enjoyed ourselves less,” wrote Sylvia.
“Sylvia can be hard to please,” said Angelynn.
“Those boats could use a coat of paint,” I said.
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The priest went into the place in those parts, the priest an old pear or grape gotten ripe and then moreso, but never actually expiring . He was hunched and it looked like he was broken at some integral part, but nobody could tell for sure where. One time, a bat…
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Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
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371010
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Purchance to dream purchase ants to dream running Catalan sidewalk schoolyard fumble days berlin wall came tumbling down tumbling down tumbling down the mexico wall come tumbling down fuck you, Gorby. Head to radio, broadcast Hitler kill the generation di
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85310
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www.echapbook.com/fiction/ratch
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Twig arms,
Send me back then back again.
The skeleton of our home
Lives above the town
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Darkness on my mind
doesn't make me blind.
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I can't believe it's Frankie, but there he is at a table on the far side, just in front of the big picture window. I hold the menu close to my face and peek again over the top, watching as he reaches under the white linen tablecloth to plant…
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Five years ago—or maybe ten—I clipped an article containing a quote that has haunted and inspired me ever since, and tacked it to my wall. Describing the success of diplomats from nearly ninety nations to convene in Oslo, Norway, and agree on the wording
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117211
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Here is a not remembering
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Hell found me. I was scouring my shelf for books to read last night and nothing seemed to interest me. There were books on anthropology, politics, economics, science, and sociology -- the works. There were also my Hornby's, Gaiman's, Tolkien's,…
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165110
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Leda looks back over her shoulder at us as the swan
grips her from behind while at the same time nipping at
the nape of her neck. She's a freckled child and
a little frightened. There's a dark smudge beneath her eye
where the shadow runs. The swan
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128010
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She smiled at him. "You want to know the secret, that's why you want her to tell - not because you want her to be happy."
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Clatters and clatters ensued, and the splash destroyed all denial.
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The flowerpots across the street from Frank’s room at the Place d’Armes Hotel never appeared parched by the late August sun.
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Rose would have preferred to survey the wreckage alone, between sips of her earl grey, but the morning light drew her attention to blonde and jet black curls weaving into folds of fabric.
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I try again. "You can make a big cup by putting your hands and fingers together, see?"
He glares at me. "A giant could make a big cup," he says. "A giant could make a giant cup."
I thought so before, and I’ll say it again. A little genius.
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In his head the moment would have been different.
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1
Al Capone was ruling the backstreets and alleyways of Chicago during Prohibition, and we lived in a little house right next door to a speak-easy. I could peak through our curtains and see right into the bar next door when cops came in to get pai
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“Do you have a job? Are you going back to school,” I asked, you know, because I’m hip like that.
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the arc of her invective presumably aimed at the little boy and girl ambling halfway down the block behind her
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