1152 3 2
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One night he woke up with Underdog laying next to him, breathing softly. He marveled at how fiction could make reality so much better.
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113211
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...the loving and very painful hurt of our daily sustenance
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99211
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It was in his teeth. A blackness, a subscription to an outsideness, a painful contraction of burnt out trees scattered there among sand drifts and tidal debris. His face, lightly weathered and troubled, a tightness built into eyes of thought and separation. His arms, strong…
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95632
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it felt fucking awesome at that moment, in that way only little things can feel huge and life affirming
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157822
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I got to Victoria station at quarter to eleven on a Friday with nothing but a small leather bag and the vague idea of getting out of London.
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7934
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---Fuckin' gypsies, someone yelled down to us from a balcony. ---Go home to your mammies and study math!
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197711
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"This is where the children play," the woman said cheerily.
She gestured toward the flat bed of a pickup truck. The edge was surrounded by a makeshift wooden fence that looked like it had been made out of old orange crates.
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116800
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This morning Katie and Jimmy are learning about the potters field—the one where Judas Iscariot was buried—from their grandma.
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115054
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It was noon and cloudless when I pulled over next to the icehouse, wedged in the X formed by two dirt roads.
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113655
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The first time it happened I was waiting for the local in one of those underground stations that lets a few rays of battered moonlight through the grates on cloudless nights.
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235665
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He ran over our elderly neighbor Lenard, but not on purpose, or at least not as far as we could tell; there wasn't any yelling, I mean, and he didn't look happy when he got out of the car, though who could really tell through a bear costume.
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1557105
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In my choppings, I come across a tiny carrot amidst the baby carrots. The runt if you will.
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127063
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Is it better to have a boy or a girl? That's not a rhetorical question. I'm really asking. When I was four, I used to wedge myself in between the wall and refrigerator and yell out, “Help! I'm stuck!” It was my mom's least favorite game. Meanwhile, half a
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10976
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Panic, the caul of the firstborn burned in the fire, lace napkins bunched into threadbare bags, along with a few faded photographs of the ancestors.
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126744
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It was one of those weekday mornings in early spring when Marjorie and I could wander from chapel to chapter house with only security guards for company.
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