Stories tagged micro


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Waking in the middle of the night, tangled in the hotel sheets, I wanted to hear the story again: their pilot friend, the war, his specialty. "It's just a screw, son," Dad said, "nothing exotic."

Assay the Assail

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No one is a Puritan under all that powder!

Lake Tranquility: Micros

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Dawn Dawn smile radiant, she accepts. Surface still — paddle grazes. The reed-hidden heron, startled, soars. Midday Bare toes squish mud-smacked, hands held, he squints into midday sun, embrace — bliss. …

let us be thankful

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My mother pulled me aside and observed that I was more cheerful than in years past — even my grandmother had noticed it — but she hadn't caught me stealing off to the pint of Tennessee whiskey I had stashed in the study. Probably because she was…

it's not your fault

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The bay window where she sat in the morning and wrote. The herb garden she had planted one summer outside the kitchen window. The landing where she had lain, viciously twisted, for two hours before he came home from the office and found her.


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There is a tall and leafy tree in our backyard. Also a bride, a groom, and a chicken.

Flowers for Our Dead Lovers

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We brought flowers for our dead lovers


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Jake remembers that Amy told him once that she thought that somehow he would always be a part of her life. That was before she went to Spain and married an American bull fighter.

The Fortune of an Accident

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Staring at her horribly disfigured face, I envied her.


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Past the pavilion, past the factory, past the underside of the bridge where the surfers jimmy their sloppy fingers over the oil barrels.


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... her hair spills like spinach all the way down to her backpack, the top pocket where the bowl and the cinnamon estrange themselves from the coffee.

Truffle Socks

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Imagine instead the skater's lean feat, the toes which, honestly, may represent 25% of the entire length. The superb way she slips them into the boots. They smell like truffles.


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I am the marigold wheel no one can understand, the menace your grandfather warned you about. Yes, yes, that last phrase was overkill...


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If it were known that I am as stupid as I am, if the press were to open that page on TV, if the laughter shot itself like fireworks out into the road--


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Do I have grounds for inadequacy?