Manuche, Muddled
The three of them sit in the corner: the bald one, the furry one, and the skinny one with glasses. They wear crisp suits, unadorned, and they drink whiskey, neat. They mask their defects well: desperate, impoverished eyes behind precision, good posture, and tones of authority, maybe even condescension. It’s the furry one with round, impish eyes and a thick, graying moustache that Nettie knows well. Manuche . She has loved him for most of her life. Sometimes, especially o
Oct 16, 202512 min read
The Fighter
His movements were slow, a warped shadow, a leg that dragged behind him. His hair was like pondweed, wild and brash, black coils that...
Sep 29, 20256 min read
Alice's Four-Letter Word
IT WOULD SEEM I HAVE NOWHERE TO SLEEP. The concrete scrapes against my feet because the soles of my sneakers are worn, and because I...
Sep 23, 202517 min read
My Wild Axolotl
YOU'RE STARTING TO SHOW. Soft curves. Hand on your belly. A curious tee shirt that says: Autumn Mom, even though you’re not due until...
Sep 12, 20259 min read
Father Figure
His thoughts were full that morning, and why not? There was the rough-hewn park-bench he sat on, a replica of the stone staircase in...
Sep 12, 20258 min read
Ghost Woman
There is a painting in the sunroom, hasty strokes of grey, white and blue. Splatters . Deliberate and unintended - as though the artist...
Sep 8, 202513 min read