Fiction

“I am so broken,” you say. Raising my head, I am struck by this new look in your eyes. Mesmerized, I don’t even wonder as…

The window display in the Goodwill relied on an imaginative employee. Sometimes washed, occasionally smokey, and…

Awais had a great thirst for adventure. During his college days he toured several places with his classmates in a college bus.

It was me who dropped the box of Band-Aids into the toilet. None of us wanted to admit it, but Ben and Jimmy had had nothing to confess.

Outside, the hot August sun branded everything in its path, seeking out every cleft and angle. But not here. Room 263 of the Samaritan Home was…

When we made love, I thought of nothing but the parakeets. They were four floors below in Samantha’s study. I feared they were starving.

A wise old art dealer in Amsterdam liked to tell a particular story, over appelflappen and coffee, of when he was not so old and not so wise.

He guides his 1950 Massey-Harris tractor out the battered grey doors of the old barn. The rusted hinges of the barn door match the faded paint…

Marcia chose the little photography shop in North Park because one of her work colleagues had recommended it. She’d called the day before…