Across a wood-grain bar in southern Minnesota on the way to Buddy Holly roller coaster in slower Iowa, I lay a few dollars on the bar for the sixpack of Blatz (cheapest they got and straight from... [+]
Short Fiction
This job is a grand. We’re supposed to deliver the piano from a suburban chateau into a self-storage facility. Why doesn’t matter. Pick-up address, how many floors down; delivery address, how... [+]
"She's a difficult pleasure," I said of my ex-wife. I was standing at the front door of her house, talking to her new partner, Sammy, a woman. My ex-wife, Lily, was not there.
We both took in... [+]
In front of him, for nearly every minute he was awake, there was a screen.
He tried to recall a time when it wasn’t this way. He couldn’t, so he watched old movies to try to remember.... [+]
She sleeps like a dead weight now beside me, lowered into the night, the ropes of the day swaying around her. We know nothing about each other really. She does not know how often my ex-lover visits me... [+]
I met Sarkas at a club called Pose. Rolling on molly, eager to swallow the world, dancing with our hips and mouths pressed together before I even knew his name. Light ricocheted off sweat-slick skin... [+]
The weather was good today, you answer whenever I ask how are you, how was your day. I don’t know when we stopped talking about what mattered the most because you won’t tell me. I ask are you... [+]
It began at a sports bar, the kind of place the realtor would call "happy-go-lucky." In other words, if your barstool wasn't sticky, assume it had just been swabbed clean by CSI. There was graffiti... [+]
On his way out the door to a meeting with a client, the husband said, “We should have a baby,” and the wife, pointing to one of the windows that overlooked the driveway, said, “We already have... [+]
I remember when my world divided into male and female, when the girls screamed “Shaun has cooties!” across the playground and flushed with what I thought was anger. I remember being in a... [+]
We pull off at the side of the highway in Somewhere, Maine looking to sing to the snails. There’s a deep shoulder of gravel here, so we assume it to be a parking lot. The sky and the water and the... [+]
On our last day at the beach the sun came out, and the fog, which for that whole week had draped the shore in a veil of cotton, burned away: we discovered there was an ocean here, after all. It... [+]