Jim watched Rudy pull himself up the rope with lean strong arms covered in swirling tattoos, the bandolier wrapped around his chest. Once Rudy’s feet were off the ground, he used the toe of one sneaker to snag the handle of the paint can Beth held up to … view
Eileen stood up as Andrew walked toward her: it seemed like the polite thing to do. “Holy shit,” she said, louder than she should have. “You look awesome.” And he did.
He sat right down, without even an attempt at a kiss or even a hug. … view
I have attained to the imposing age of one hundred and three and I have never flown in an airplane, and I suppose that can be blamed on Rodney Dorrance. If I ever went up in an airplane, all I would be able to think about would be … view
James D. Sullivan
“That ending you added, it ruins the whole point of the story.”
“Without that ending, the story makes no sense.”
“You didn’t understand the story. You weren’t there. You didn’t know him like I did.”
“I’m making a literary judgment.”
“Your version, it’s … view
I sat in front of Darren Prescott’s house for fifteen minutes before he noticed my car parked in his driveway. Snow blew down from the January sky, and though it wasn’t yet dark, Prescott flipped on the porch light before stepping outside.
“Shit,” I muttered, resisting the urge … view
I admit it, I ran away. After I was sacked in my mid-fifties and I drove my wife back into the arms of her daddy’s money, I had no way back to what I had done well in my life. There wasn’t even a way to get a … view
Edward Austin Hall
Hidden from his fellow attorneys’ view by the boardroom table, Reed Shields’s right hand drummed softly on the briefcase beside him. His left hand perched against his face like some uncertain insect.
“Again,” Ani Martinsson said to Terry Smith, their client. The previous day’s … view
A pair of Ghettobirds came for Ol’ Preacher Bag Lady at Five Points station, Eastbound to Indian Creek.
One of them hovered over Ol’ Preacher Bag Lady, a mechanical chimera with a tall, feminine figure, a hawk’s head, wasp wings and a kaleidoscopic breastplate. The head was not … view
How do you pick up a Goth girl? With your knees, not your back. She tried to remember who told her that as she braced herself, took a deep breath, gripped the handles and pushed with arms, back and knees. But the goddamn wheel spun again before the … view
It is Sunday night and we are standing on the porch after I’ve put our son to bed, saying goodbye, see you in a couple of weeks, etc. It’s the often perfunctory end to dropping our son back off with her, but it’s gotten warmer over the years. At first … view