Category Archives: Fiction

“I’m sick,” Hannah says by way of explaining her presence and her appearance, “and I’m supposed to be reading board resolutions.” Buck doesn’t hear her correctly. That’s because one of the local walkers is passing by, and that has started … Continue reading →

Hannah is an anti-historian. That started when she couldn’t master history in school; she who aced elementary and junior high classes without doing any homework couldn’t pull a B on a history quiz. She read and reread fiction at the … Continue reading →

At first she was irritated. Then irked. She tried to modulate her negativity, but Monica grew waspish. Simon responded with anxiety and tripled his efforts to please her. He began guessing at what she desired and conforming his own choices … Continue reading →

She didn’t complain about her loneliness, then or later. Monica knew it would be like bitching about the obligations of wealth; she wasn’t going to get sympathy and she wouldn’t feel admirable. But she noticed. For a few years she … Continue reading →

She realized three months after she married him that she probably shouldn’t have. It started to be obvious to Monica then, how damaged she was after the breakup with Charlie, what a relief it had been to be light-hearted with … Continue reading →

Simon’s headaches began when he was 30. At first he’d have one every other month or so. The pain wasn’t disabling but it was annoying, and the condition didn’t respond to any over-the-counter analgesics. He’d wake with a slight headache, … Continue reading →

They bought the first house a year after their wedding, but they were both working too hard to indulge in new-homeowner projects like refinishing floors and stripping paint off built-ins. They satisfied themselves that the place was more of an … Continue reading →

If it hadn’t been for his headaches, Simon would never have found Debra, and if he hadn’t met Debra he might have stayed with Monica. He might have pots of money. He might still have headaches. He marvels about it. … Continue reading →

As the campfire alters its state, from curlicues of red-glowing coals to licks of blue and gold, Daphne alters hers from outgoing to in-turning. She becomes very quiet, and she begins to sense the pathways of her nerves, the connections … Continue reading →

“Teresa!” Daphne sang out. Of course they hadn’t heard her, but now she made noise. “Don’t call me Teresa. Please. Not Tracy or Terry, either. I implore.” She limped into the clearing and began to dress. “What’s the story? And … Continue reading →