Stories tagged rofihe

Scar

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Since Patty got the lumpectomy, she won’t sleep with anyone but Cal, because he was the one who went with her to the hospital and wasn’t surprised when he saw the scar.

Jelly Doughnuts (from The New Yorker)

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Simmi's only been in New York three weeks, but the second night she was here Buck took her to a coffee place he knew, and now Simmi makes sure he takes her there every night...

Elevator Neighbors (from The New Yorker)

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“Do you think she paints?” “Her face, a little, But don’t you find her kind of bony?”

Yellow Dining Room (from The New Yorker)

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...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...

Carmen (from The New Yorker+ a Jimmy Breslin "afterword" from Newsday)

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Every trip her mother leaves it until then: Shouldn’t she look for an apartment in a better area; shouldn’t she try for a job with some future? “And, you know, someday you could get married, Carmen.”

Me. You. Love.

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In my own case, before Ellen, of course there was someone else. She—well, she was someone who I felt as if I’d always known and always would. And I think she felt the same about me.

Something About Ireland (from FATHER MUST)

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That’s the way it went all day with me—didn’t get far, didn’t see much, just, with Mary, drank tea here and there. A fine day it was, too; not cloudy, not raining...

Cousin (from The New Yorker)

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...to know something people around you don’t know can put you outside of them. And then you can’t get back in...

The Bowery Scene (Memoir, 1981; edited by Charlotte Curtis)

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It is easy to look out on the Bowery and say, "There are the bums." Encountering one, however, even one who asks to "bum a quarter" or tells you he's "on the bum" the word "bum" slips away in one's mind...

Break-up Bars (A Recipe...)

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2 sticks soft (like your heart) butter... ... 1 cup crushed (like you) walnuts...

My Kentucky Fried Ascension (Memoir)

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...as a boy I rode once in an elevator with Colonel Sanders...

Who In This Room Shared a Drink with Johnny Cash? (Memoir)

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...where I grew up the only celebrity one could count on seeing was Santa Claus...

How I Invented the Designer Jean in 1968 (Memoir)

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Before I was 18 years old, in my small home town of Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, Canada, I invented the designer jean...

Locked in a Small-Town Cage with My Superheroes, and Having No Way to Get an MFA... (Memoir)

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...I grew up in a provincial town which at the time had no bookstore and no library — no library even at school...

THE LIFE-GIVING DROP by Ivan Turgenev

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The child began to think only of the reason for being there in the cave, summoned up patience and continued to wait...