Stories tagged aging

i found this.

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Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.

Orange Box

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Glen shuffled down the aisle marked "electrical" and scowled at the hardware store's big, orange logo.

On My 37th Birthday

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My shrink says I need to go out more and socialize./My husband says I need to build up some muscle./My mother says I need to have a baby before my eggs dry up.

Untitled, or Views from the Great Space Preserve

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My great great great great great grand children like to visit to look down on earth and imagine that confusing time between stone age and space age, when we licked rocket pops, drank hot tea, and used our throats to speak.

4 Chapters

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But I don't see the cabinets, or know how to put the 4 chapters he's talking about today into the drawers that are invisible, floating, above his bed he's been in for a year, me sitting next to him, becoming a spinster.

Damaged Goods

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As she slunk to her topless Mercedes sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned wishing similar treatment.

A Word A Day

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Words had begun slipping away from him years before when he thought nothing of it, as those were unimportant authors or cookie cutter actresses.

Little Silver Cups

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She toyed with the fake gold pen set the college had given her when she won Teacher of the Year. “I can barely handle one. A dozen…what would I do if I drank a dozen little cups of vodka. I’d probably prance naked down the hall.”

Graduation (For My Mother)

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I know I’m slipping into my mother’s skin. I answer the phone with her voice; her hands grind the coffee beans. And who is this listening to NPR in the morning while the fresh-faced girls in the neighborhood trudge toward school,, peonies han

Age is Relativity

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Albert Einstein was probably the genius of our age. Joe Biden is a close second, yet Einstein not only had better hair but a keener knack to think of things that no one else could, or would, or would ever want to, since if they did, their brain would shockingly combust in a…

Anxious Whittle Anxious

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Son, could you please step out of the car?

Go Hard or Go Home

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The sound of Lois's voice penetrates my dream. “Time to get up Honey, you'll be late for the reunion.” I groan and pull a blanket over my head. “The reunion's the last thing I want to think about.” It feels like there's a…

Sad, Pretty

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Now this—a fifteen-year-old prostitute asking him if he was lonely. When he asked why on earth a young girl from an apparently good home would be doing such a thing, she shrugged. “Because I can.”


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She was a rich widow who lived down the street.

After Sex

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She looked at him the way you would look at old meat.