Knox had been hanging around 8th street since before they put in the ATMs. We didn't know where he lived, but that's where he'd been ever since I'd moved here about ten years ago. He used a cracked ... [+]
Short Fiction
My mother told me I should never date a guy who didn't have his own car. She said that it set some bad precedent, mixed up the lines between provider and provided-for. There's nothing more ladylike ... [+]
He didn't see the woman standing next to him until her face, white and round as the moon, was peering into the car. Her gray hair, long and thin, danced in the wind.
Her hand moved in circles
... [+]
Tomorrow will mark a year since I had my stroke. It's an occasion that, according to my daughter, Ginny, I should view as important. But I've spent enough time staring at death; I don't want to think ... [+]
Mrs Wallace had to jaywalk to make the bus, which was about to pull away. It wasn't easy. She was overweight and her left knee, which hadn't been feeling so good of late, felt spongey. Breathing ... [+]
There he was, waiting for another train. He was so sick of the subways. Always late. Dirty. Noisy. Flying maniac kids dancing for dollars. Bad musicians. Endless panhandlers. And the so-called ... [+]
"Do you like Sunshine Bear?"
Becca scowls down at her white shirt emblazoned with a smiling bear—at the long, bony finger inches away from her skinny chest.
"It's Funshine Bear," she says
... [+]
The four-leaf clover should not have been there, caught in Esteban's hair. It was a surprise there was any clover at all. The cows had already been through twice that week, pulling at the remnants of ... [+]
The wind was sharper this close to the water. Hands trembling, Astrid hurried to zip her jacket before the ride operator checked her seatbelt. She wished her tremors had more to do with the chill in ... [+]
Anna knew the bridge was a mistake before she and Henry even got there. Maybe it was because he had said he thought it was strange for full grown adults to interrupt a conversation to swoon over an ... [+]
"Are you scared?" I ask Dad over the phone.
"What do I have to be scared about?" he says. "We're locked in our rooms."
He's always been tough like that, stoic, but I wish I could see his face, hug
... [+]
I ignored him until he throttled down. That was not normal.
It was a pleasant night, but an hour after curfew. City lights from Saigon to the east turned the dark a velvety purple, and the sweet
... [+]
Sarah feels bricked up, even though she's riding her bike. She feels caged, because of where she's riding her bike: to a coffee shop to meet an ex she's not sure she wants to meet. He called her to ... [+]
I've never been less than an hour early for my train. I don't know if it comes from a sense of heightened preparedness or an ongoing current of anxiety that doesn't even let me sleep in on weekends ... [+]
Twenty years ago, I took my daughter, Sara, to the ocean for her fourth birthday. She just learned to dog paddle, and proudly walked up to anyone in sight, saying, "I can swim." The sea was calm, so ... [+]