I would open an eye, waiting for it to absorb the scant light in the room, and I would see her on the far edge of the bed, the topography of her hips now a battlement to keep me at bay.

423 days. The old man still possessed the child-like habit of biting his lower lip when he wrote. The thick skin as dry as pork rind. He recorded the days without rain in a spare, makeshift almanac. The pages waxened from the soiled press of his hand

I tell myself to go back to my room, forget about the Bugs Bunny puzzle. I disobey myself

Dirty with Texas diamonds lose shine.

No forwarding address.

Reenie had always wanted to see Paris. In her dreams at night, she walked the old streets of the city, dressed up in floaty clothes, the smell of French perfume on the air. She told us that French perfume was just how Heaven smelt. But instead of Paris she had…

"I feel sorry for your wife. The meatloaf. The turkey. The lasagna so forlorn in the deep freeze," the creamy and filling side dish said.